


The Butterfly Effect - Another Possible Ending

by RogueVigilante



Series: TMA Time Travel AU - The different ways things could have ended [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Alternative Ending to one of my other fics, Back to Season 1, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Happy Ending, Jon gets a chance to try again, M/M, also massively pining over a certain Martin Blackwood, description of worm attack, minor season 5 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 07:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueVigilante/pseuds/RogueVigilante
Summary: After the unfortunate fate of Martin Blackwood, Helen offers to send Jon back in time. Knowing this is his only chance, Jon takes it, stepping through the door and into the past.Back to when it all began in 2016 and armed with the knowledge of what's to come, Jon has a chance to try and change the future of his friends. To make it better for them and to make sure that they all survive what is to come. But sometimes things go in a completely different direction than intended.(You do not need to read the Butterfly Effect to enjoy this)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker
Series: TMA Time Travel AU - The different ways things could have ended [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920544
Comments: 6
Kudos: 88





	1. Attempt 2

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys (again), it's another Time-Travel AU!
> 
> Except this time things turn out a little differently.
> 
> Basically this is an alternative ending to another one of my fics (The Butterfly Effect), except with one minor change that has a very large impact on the ending. I have added the entire story here, so you don't need any knowledge of the other fic, this is a stand-alone story. However, if you do want to see things going horribly wrong then give it a read. If you have already read The Butterfly Effect, the story is functionally identical (there are a few minor changes) until Chapter 10 so you can just skip to the end.
> 
> If you enjoy, please consider leaving Kudos or saying hi in the comments (I don't bite :) )
> 
> And thank you for reading....

The last thing Jon remembers is the door, bright and colourful spirals creeping out from its beating heart with a blinding light. Helen had stood beside it, smiling as he faced both them and the door. They’d told him this was the way back, a chance to restart from the beginning and try again, try to change the inevitable fate of the world. Jon instantly knew what they meant. Time travel. Although Helen had said that offer with a smirk, so Jon was still slightly uncertain about the full outcome. It also worried Jon that Helen hadn’t even mentioned what they were getting in payment to this generous offer. When he’d asked, all Helen had said was that they were fond of Martin and wanted to see his fate change. Martin. Jon didn’t want to think about it anymore, dwell on the past the same way he had done for who knows how long. So, he’d said yes, knowing full well there was a catch. He was doing it for Martin, and Tim and Sasha.

It had occurred to him that he could have just pulled the truth out of them. Found out exactly what game the Spiral was playing with him. But Helen would have refused and fought back. Jon wasn’t certain he could die anymore, not while the fear of the apocalypse he had brought carried on. Helen could, and would have died. Then Jon would be trapped here, alone for however long eternity lasts until death claimed its final prize. So, he’d nodded, and Helen had opened a door that wasn’t there with a smile and a final wave. If everything went well, he might not ever see her face again.

Jon stepped through, and the world had gone a blinding white.

When the blindness clears from his eyes, all Jon’s left with is a splitting headache. It hammers in his skull and refuses to go away. Blinking his eyes twice in a hope that it would clear up soon, Jon looks around the room he’s walked into from the door. Well, walked is a strong term, as currently he appears to be sitting at a familiar desk. The dark wood and neat stacks of paper in the corner to his left, the overflowing pen pot and laptop to his right, the tea stained drink coaster. This is his desk at the Magus Institute. Well, this used to be his desk before he stopped caring what it looked like.

Quickly looking around, he sees his office, neat and organised with a few stacks of statement boxes and undamaged shelving behind him. He’s back in the Magnus Institute, back before it all began. Before the Prentiss attack and the paranoia and the marks. Before the Eye and the Archivist. Jon lets out a small chuckle, thankful his past self isn’t here to see him right now. That would take a lot of explaining. But that doesn’t matter in this moment, right now he’s back before everything began. Well, mostly everything. It’s not like he can just leave the Institute.

Taking a moment to savoir this, Jon suddenly realises how light he feels. The desire for statements, the hunger, the overwhelming pressure of the entities is gone. It’s an odd feeling, walking from the almighty power he wielded in the end of the world to the power of just the Archivist. But even then, the gaze of the Eye feels faint. He’d never really noticed it before, or never cared enough to actually look, but now he realises how faint that gaze upon him is. It’s still there, still watching, but it’s like he’s in the corner of its vision rather than holding back the full force of its gaze. For the first time in God knows how long, Jon feels human again.

The headache hasn’t gone away, still pounding at the back of his skull and almost ruining the moment. Almost. Closing his eyes, he rubs his palms on his temple in a futile effort to make it go away. It doesn’t work, leaving Jon to run his hands down his smooth chin. Smooth? That wasn’t right. Opening his eyes, he quickly pats down the lower half of his face. The small amounts of stubble that had grown out during the cottage in Scotland before the world ended were gone. It should still be there, so why had it gone? Unless…

Jon looks at his hands, staring at the short nails and mostly unblemished skin. They were gone; the burn from Jude Perry, the scar from Michael. The sleeves of his jumper have changed, replaced by a crisp white shirt that would never have survived the apocalypse. Looking at the rest of himself, Jon sees he’s wearing slacks and a tie again. A green tweed jacket that one would expect an English professor to wear was hanging off the back of the chair. He didn’t need to get his phone camera out to know in that moment, the worm scars, the throat scar, the ones on his ribs would also all be gone. He hadn’t just been sent to the past; he’d been sent back into his past self.

Jon doesn’t know how he feels about that. On one hand, he’s human again, every mark and scar gone. The power nothing more than a distant path in his coming future. On the other, he was hoping for the full powers of the Archivist to aid him. Thinking about it, that small set-back seems insignificant to everything he has gained by stepping back into his younger self. The struggle, the desperation, the fight with his own nature to hold onto his humanity was gone. He has a chance to start over, to re-do every choice he made. To save Sasha from the Not!Them. To not push Tim away with his paranoia. To not become the Archivist, not get marked by every Entity. The thought makes him smile. All he’ll have to do is impersonate himself, after all, they’ll think he’s crazy if he tells them everything now.

Jon doesn’t think that would be too hard. He just has to pretend to be their sceptic and slightly grumpy boss who definitely does not know what’s going on and is definitely not madly in love with Martin. Oh Gods, Martin. Jon realises now that he’s going to have to hide his feeling for Martin, to not grab his hand when he’s standing close or give him a stealth cuddle from behind.

‘I can do that,’ Jon thinks to himself. ‘It’s not going to be that hard.’

At least he gets to see Martin again.

It occurs to Jon in that moment that he should probably find out when he is. He knows this must be before the Jane Prentiss attack and it looks like he’s already started making the recordings, but has Martin moved into the Archives yet? Has Sasha met Michael already? Pulling out his phone, he turns it on to look at the date, his eyes catching on the background. It’s a generic scene of bird feather close up, something from the pre-sets that he once thought looked plain and simple enough to do the job, but has long since been changed to a photo of Martin. Or will change? Messing with time made things more confusing than they had to be. Looking at the date, he sees that it is the 18th of February 2016. It doesn’t help much, without his Archivist powers, he can’t remember the exact statement number of Martin’s statement, but he knows that it was around this time.

He also notices that it’s a little past 8 in the morning. Knowing that the Archives should be deserted to everyone, except maybe Martin, Jon decides to have a look around. Martin’s not there. Instead he walks through the Institute alone, marvelling at how different yet the same it is. Tim, Sasha, and Martin’s desks sit in a small circle, mostly tidy except for Tim’s current research into the statement of Hailey Rundleman. Giving it a quick glance, Jon is pretty sure this is not one of the real ones as it bears none of the hallmarks of an actual encounter with one of the Entities. There’s a framed photo on Martin’s desk, the four of them sitting in a booth while Tim takes a selfie of them all. There’s ice cream and Martin’s smiling with a smile like the morning sun.

It makes Jon’s heart break a little as he remembers Martin walking in with breakfast in bed and the same smile back in Scotland. As he noticed his first Scottish Highland cow. As they sat together in the Panopticon after escaping the Lonely and had their first kiss. As he remembers all the little moments together up until… No, he’s not reliving that again. Instead he looks at the rest of the photograph, to Tim’s beaming face, to his own small smile, and to a woman he doesn’t recognise. Sasha. The real Sasha James. Her dark skin and curly dark hair competing are against his memories of the tall white thing that impersonated her for so many months. It’s nice to know what she actually looked like, what she still looks like. He has to save her, has to stop the Not!Them from taking her. Jon stares at that photo for a long time before replacing it on Martin’s desk and looking around again.

Basira’s stack of books, the cots and clothes that kept the Archives in a constant slight mess, and Melanie’s spare knife are all gone. It’s neat and tidy and devoid of any traces of what they all went through. Slowly walking, Jon wanders over to the small bench with the kitchen appliances on it. The fridge in has a few notes stuck to it, jokes between Sasha and Tim mainly, and a reminder from Jon to label all food. Jon remembers the notes, although the fridge had been blank for a long time after everything started happening. An empty packet of biscuits and an open tea bag box sit discarded on the counter by a dirty mug. Jon smiles, running his hand across the bench in memory. The whole place is devoid of the depression, the hopelessness, the anger that they all shared at being stuck here. It looks almost happy. It’s a nice memory he’s caught up in, a nicer time he gets to see again. Now he just has to keep it this way.

Jon hears a sound, footsteps as someone comes to approach the Archives. They’re here. For all his imagining and excitement, Jon doesn’t know what to do in this moment. Doesn’t know how he can act normal. What if it’s Sasha, whose face he’ll only know from that photograph? Tim, who still considers him a friend? Martin, who means everything to Jon? So, he retreats, scuttling back to his office and shutting the door to compose himself. From on the other side of the frosted glass, he sees an unfamiliar silhouette. Sasha is here.

There’s nothing that Jon wants to do more than run out of the office he’s stuck himself in and stare. To give her a joyous hug. But the old Jon wouldn’t have done that, he’d have sat in his office working until he came out for a cup of tea and a biscuit. So, that’s what he has to do instead, sit in his chair, and uselessly shuffles papers around in an attempt to look busy until it seems reasonable for him to come out and see her again. Caught in the euphoria of the moment, he realises he doesn’t have a plan for anything yet. Not the table, not the worms, not Elias.

Elias is watching him. Jon had forgotten that little tid-bit of information. The last thing Jon wants is for Jonah to realise that he’s actually the Archivist from the future and that in the old timeline, his plan is an overwhelming success. Which means he’ll have to play the part for both his assistants and an Elias who could be constantly watching him at any moment. Which means recording the statements and acting as old Jon would, even in private. Sighing, he picks up the first of the statements on his stack and gives it a look over, trying to figure out exactly where he is in the pile.

Tim comes in next, loud, and boisterous as he greats Sasha in a joyful tone. Well, not exactly joyful, just happier than he’s heard Tim sound in a long time. This is a Tim who didn’t have to deal with his paranoia, with the horrors of Magnus Institute, with everything that will happen. Jon smiles as he listens to the two of them talk about something so mundane that he can hardly make out the words. It’s just noise, but it’s a nice noise. A nice moment of a mundane past he’s long forgotten.

He sits, listening to them talk before their conversation begins to die down. Even after he can’t hear anything more, aside from an occasional burst of sound, he still sits and smiles. After everything they’ve been through, this moment is something out of a dream.

“Morning Sasha, morning Tim,” a new voice cuts through the silence. Martin.

Jon’s heart skips a beat as he hears his shuffling around outside the door. The temptation to run out is greater now, to collapse into Martin’s arms and never let go. He’s here. He’s okay. He’s unharmed. But the old Jon didn’t love Martin the way he does now and would never have done that. So, despite how much it hurts, he doesn’t move. Instead he takes a deep breath, taking a moment to straighten his tie and check his hair is in a neat ponytail. His hands shake slightly as he realises that he could go out now, could say good morning to all the friends he’s lost as if the world hasn’t instantly changed. But before he could stand, there’s a small knock on the door from a familiar silhouette. Then Martin opens it.

“Morning Jon, fancy a cup of tea? I’m afraid Tim’s eaten all the biscuits,” he asks as if it is the most normal thing in the world. Well, for Martin it is.

Jon doesn’t even hear Tim’s squark of protest as he looks at Martin. Soft brown curls and a smile Jon could lose himself in look back. The white in his hair and the sorrow lines he tried so hard to hide are gone. It’s strange to see him unmarked, but a good strange. A nice strange.

Shaking his head slightly, Jon looks back at Martin, who waits expectantly for an answer. It has only been the briefest on moments, but for Jon it felt longer. Composing himself, he responds in a tone he hopes is old Jon-like enough.

“Morning Martin. And yes, I would love a tea.”

“Alright then,” Martin responds, before scuttling off a lot faster than he arrived, leaving the door open.

He thinks he’s done a pretty good job. That was something he would say. Then Tim pokes his head around the door with a smirk and Jon realises this might not be as easy as he’d hoped.

“Alright. Who are you and what have you done with Jonathan Sims?” Tim asks, amusement on his voice.

“What?” Jon responds.

He’d somehow messed up already. That small fact is the only thing stopping him stare at Tim, with his smirk and without his scars.

“You sure he hasn’t been possessed by something?” Sasha calls from her desk with a smile.

He can see her now. This is the first time he’s properly seen the real Sasha, a memory uncorrupted. She looks better than any photograph or rough description by Melanie could be. Sitting at her desk and typing away at her computer, she looks towards both Tim and Jon. At that moment though, it really properly hits him. He is back at the beginning. He really has another chance at this.

“The ghost of Joe Spooky that haunts this place. Probably,” Tim turns as he calls back, not seeing Jon staring at the both of them.

“Tim… I’m fine,” Jon responds, still unsure what he’s done to set this off and hoping this was a normal enough to alleviate Tim’s joking suspicion.

“Ha. Don’t worry boss, sounds like you’re back to normal,” Tim gives wink and disappears, closing the door as he goes.

Ah, that was it then. Jon sounded too affectionate towards Martin. This was going to be harder than he thought, especially since every feeling he has for Martin lies just beneath the surface, threatening to bubble over at any second. Martin shortly returns with a cup of perfectly brewed tea and Jon tries not to smile or say thank you to him. He didn’t think he could hold any of his emotions back if he did. This scene’s so familiar though, and yet slightly too different also. But it’s been too long since he’s had a good cup of Martin’s tea, so he just tries to savour the moment. He’s falling into his memories again, those lazy Scottish mornings with a mug of tea and curling up on Martin’s lap.

Holding the tea, Jon takes a sip as he waits for it to cool slightly, thinking of the future instead of the past. He knows he has to deal with the table first; before Martin moves into the Archives. Once Martin was living in the Magnus Institute, it would be more difficult for Jon to sneak around unnoticed after dark. Especially since the tunnels were off limits due to the impending Jane Prentiss invasion. Unless the invasion and attack never happened. But that was for later, right now, Jon has a table to deal with.

Thinking of the table and the Not!Them, Jon reaches into his drawer and starts rummaging, an idea forming. Eventually, after searching through two drawers he finds what he is looking for and pulls out a tape recorder. The Not!Them can’t affect the recordings on the tapes and if anything like Sasha happens again, he needs to know. Taking a breath, Jon begins to record.

_“Recording the descriptions of Tim, Sasha, and Martin in the event things… happen_

_“Sasha is short…”_


	2. Changing Fate

Jon spends most of his morning thinking about the table, the euphoria of seeing everyone again still not dying. He’s spent most of the time considering just destroying the Not!Them bound to the table, before realising that without the power of the Ceaseless Watcher to smite them, as Martin put it, it would be a near impossible task. They would have to fight and at the very least, Jon figures he would come out with some visible mark, something that wouldn’t be easy to explain away. If he could even win at all. He doubts it, guessing that instead he would be the one replaced. At least then Elias would quietly deal with the problem.

After realising that, this idea very quickly became the ‘last resort’ plan. Instead, Jon briefly considers moving the table to a more secure location; the tunnels perhaps. Except that wouldn’t solve the Not!Them problem, as Not!Sasha had moved around a fair bit despite being bound to the table. Anyway, leaving the table in the tunnels would be dangerous for all the assistants, especially Martin and Tim, who will both brave the tunnels alone during the worm invasion. If Jon still let the Jane Prentiss attack happen, although he hadn’t quite decided yet. Then again, he’d only been in this time less than 12 hours. There had been a moment though, in all his desperate thinking, that he’d considered making a deal with the Not!Them, promising to set them free in return for them leaving the Magnus Institute and never returning. Then he realised how dangerous that idea actually was, and how unlikely it was that the Not!Them would listen to him.

So, he was left with nothing, no plan, no idea, and no clue how long he had left. Martin had come in to work today, so the worm siege at his apartment hadn’t happened yet. And while Jon knew that the Not!Them wouldn’t emerge until the invasion of the Magnus Institute; it didn’t make him any less uncomfortable with the idea of having it sitting in Artifact Storage, waiting to strike. Instead, most of the time was spent in his office, shuffling papers and thinking. He’d recorded a few statements, things that all recorded perfectly to his computer first time. But while the old Jon had suspected that only the true statements ended up on tape, he currently wasn’t supposed to know this. He also doesn’t know when Elias is watching him. So, he has to act as he once did, or at least tries to act as he once did as he hides out and avoids Sasha, Tim, and Martin.

‘It’s because he’s trying to remember how he acted back then,’ he tells himself again and again. He’s not avoiding them because he’s scared and nervous.

Eventually, Jon can’t avoid it. It’s approaching noon and his lunch is waiting for him in the Archive fridge. Steeling himself, Jon takes a breath and opens the door of his office. Sasha looks at her computer, half a forkful of noodles dangling from her mouth as she types away furiously at something. Unable to stop smiling, Jon continues to the break room. Tim sits at the small table, chatting away to Martin, who is making himself another cup of tea. Retrieving his lunch, Jon sits down next to Tim, as if this is a perfectly normal day and not the first time in a long time that Tim could stand being in the same room as Jon. He tries to listen to the conversation, something about Tim complaining about a passenger on the train this morning. It seems like it would be an amusing story, if it weren’t for the fact that he’d clearly missed the first half of it. Still, Martin laughs though, as Tim goes on a humorous but passionate rant with a gleam in his eye. It's a beautiful sound.

Jon munches on his lunch, cold leftover pasta, with a small smile as he gets caught up once again in the moment of it all. Martin sits on the other side of Tim.

“Earth to Jon. Hello.”

Only then does Jon realise that he’s been blanking once again. Mentally reprimanding himself and reminding himself to focus, he looks at Tim, who is comically waving a hand in his face.

“Very funny Tim,” he responds with a droll smile.

“Oh. Looks like someone’s in a good mood today.”

Jon smiles and shrugs, taking another bite of his lunch to avoid answering that

“Sasha, come join us! We’ve caught Jon in a good mood, and I need your help to figure out why.”

“In a minute, I think I’ve nearly figured out a way around this new firewall. Guess they really don’t want random members of the public changing the enrolled student roster again,” she calls out from behind her computer.

“Again? Sasha what did you do?” Tim responds in a jovial manner.

Sasha momentarily looks at the three of them to stick her tongue out at Tim, and Jon tries very hard not to laugh. Instead he shovels in another mouthful of pasta as a distraction.

“Wasn’t me last time,” she calls back.

Tim laughs, the sound echoing around the small space they all decided would be a kitchen.

“Careful, Jon might find out all the illegal things you’ve been doing while working down here.”

“Didn’t you impersonate a member of the clergy or something like that last week? And what about…” Martin starts before Tim interrupts him.

“Snitch.”

Both Martin and Jon give a small chuckle as Tim pretends to be insulted.

“And anyway, how else was I supposed to find out about the stole or that some delivery company had taken it?” He continues as he throws his arms up in mock exasperation.

“What, did dating them not work?”

With Martin’s words, Tim, Martin, and the eavesdropping Sasha all devolve into giggles. Jon can’t help but also smile at the scene, although his mind is whirring. Tim responds, but Jon isn’t paying attention to their words anymore, instead thinking about what Tim just said. Some delivery company?

Jon knows how he can deal with the table.

He waits until Tim, Martin, and Sasha have all gone home before he begins to try and contact Breekon and Hope. Luckily, it’s easy enough with some excuse about how much paperwork needs to get done.

He’d spent the rest of the afternoon organising several boxes from the Archives with Tim. Sasha and Martin were still conducting follow up research on a handful of other statements. It wasn’t that Tim didn’t also have his own workload, just that he wanted to try and find out where this random good mood followed by a morning of hiding away had come from. It was of course accompanied by a few ‘knowing’ winks that Jon is certain mean absolutely nothing. Still, it was nice, and by the end of the day Jon feels more comfortable in the past than when he’d first arrived. He’d fallen into a bit of a routine, and although he hated being dismissive of Martin, that wasn’t something he could change instantly. Still, Jon knows he only has to hold up the act for a short time, and that he could slowly change how they saw him act towards Martin. But first he had to pretend to not notice him, so the others wouldn't notice Jon is different. Well, Jon had kind of blown that already, but they can't know he's more different than he's currently acting. For now, anyway.

It's a relief when Sasha finally leaves the Archives to go home with a gentle reminder he should also be leaving. Without caring if Elias is watching, Jon sighs and smiles, taking in another unobserved moment of the past. Then it's time. It’s not difficult to obtain the phone number of Breekon and Hope Deliveries. He might not have the same technological talent as Sasha, but he’s also not as old as he looks and he does know how to use the internet. The number’s there, waiting for him to input and dial.

Without thinking further about this, Jon does so and hits the green button.

It takes more than a few times for them to pick up. Sitting in the dark of the office, with only a single desk light, Jon listens to the dial tone repeat itself over and over again. If this was any normal company, he might have been a more reasonable person who waited until normal operating hours before continuously dialling them. But they weren’t and Jon wanted that table gone. So, he waits, listening to the ringing. Once, twice, three, four, five times he dials with no response, but he keeps going, keeps hitting that green button over and over again. Eventually, the tone stops early, starling Jon from the slow rhythm of boredom he was falling asleep to. The phone is silent for a moment before a familiar low voice answers from the other end of the line. It’s definitely Breekon, given everything Jon remembers about them.

“Who is this?”

Jumping up with silent excitement, Jon grabs the phone and holds it for a second, taking a breath to calm his nerves. Putting on a voice that he hopes sounds curt and business-like, he responds.

“This is The Archivist. I have a delivery for you.”

There’s a snort on the other end, a private joke perhaps? Jon tries not to pay it any mind, tries to ignore his thumping chest. He’s not completely The Archivist, not yet anyway. Why did he do that? Why didn’t he think of something else to say? For a moment, he wants to keep talking, to say something else, but he also knows that it’ll do no good. So, instead he waits in the silence that blankets around him. Eventually Breekon responds.

“What is it?”

“A Table. To be picked up from the Magnus Institute.”

Jon doesn’t feel the need to elaborate any further, not when he needs them to take the table away. It briefly occurs to him that he could have hired any delivery company to conduct this removal, but that might leave them at the mercy of the Not!Them. Anyway, Breekon and Hope had delivered this Table in the past, perhaps they would recognise it and be happy to have it in their possession again. Breekon’s silence is longer this time, and Jon doesn’t know if he’s thinking about it or something else.

“You have a delivery address?”

“Yes,” Jon immediately lies in panic. Delivery address? He hasn’t thought that far ahead. He hasn’t even been in this time for a full day yet and he’s already trying to ditch the table. Calming himself from the panic he’s working himself into, Jon realises that Breekon is waiting for an answer.

“I will tell you when you retrieve the Table.”

There, that bought him a little time to figure out what to do with it. He already has a few ideas, and none of them are very good. Breekon holds the silence again for longer than Jon is comfortable with, pulling the shadows in the corner of the room tight around him.

“And payment?”

Payment? Shit. Jon has no idea what he can offer for payment. He doesn’t think they work for money, and he’s certainly not telling them anything about the future. He also doesn’t have the benefit of working for The Stranger, the fact he’s aligned with Beholding instead certainly not doing him any favours in that regard. Jon supposes he could say the package is for Nikola, hope that the mannequin wants the Not!Them back badly enough to offer a free delivery. But that would leave the Not!Them running around freely, something Jon wants to avoid.

Thinking back, Jon tries to remember everything he can about the pair. The death of the thing that called itself Hope, the conversations in the warehouse when he was kidnapped, statements that related to them. Breekon dragging the coffin into the Archives to taunt Jon. The Coffin. With that, Jon has a very bad idea.

“I will accept the delivery you are currently carrying with you. The Coffin.”

It’s a bad and dangerous idea, but compared to the evil of the Table, the Coffin is easily the lesser one. He just hopes no Researchers enter it, after all, he’s definitely not strong enough to get them out again. He’ll just have to store it somewhere locked away and hope the singing call of the Coffin doesn’t get too loud. It doesn’t look like it will fit down any of the known trapdoors, and despite everything, Jon prefers to keep that thing out of his Archives. There is a locked area of Artifact Storage for the more dangerous artifacts that might work fine. Especially if he left a proper note. Unlike the last few times, Breekon doesn’t take long to answer, probably happy to get the Coffin of his hands.

“Alright. When?”

“Tonight. As soon as you can. Out the front of the Magnus Institute.”

There’s a small chuckle on the other end of the phone before Breekon hangs up without another word. Jon can only assume that Breekon has agreed to accept the delivery.

A sigh of relief prematurely washes over Jon, not even 24 hours in the past and he’s already ensured that Sasha isn’t going to be replaced by the Not!Them during the worm siege. Smiling to himself, he rests against the desk and gives himself a single moment to enjoy it before standing up and heading to the door. If he’s going to move the Table to the front entrance of the Magnus Institute so Breekon and Hope can collect it, he’ll have to make sure he’s not going to run into any Researchers doing some late night observations. Honestly, he doesn’t know how he’s going to explain this to any of them if they caught him dragging the Table through the corridors. Would they believe it if he said he’s redecorating?

Luckily, nobody seems to be working late this evening, and Jon finds that he has the run of the place. It probably helped that he took so long getting through to Breekon and Hope as it would have given time for the stragglers to go home. He also didn’t spot Elias anywhere, which is an added blessing. Jon has yet to run into the head of the Magnus Institute again and he’s still unsure if he should strangle the man or not.

But even that slight moral delay doesn’t slow down the inevitable, and soon Jon finds himself in front of the entrance to Artifact Storage. It’s dead silent, an ominous echoing noise that hangs in the air around his head. Slowly walking in, Jon spots the shadows and shapes of the various artifacts in the darkness. He knows what they are purely from sight, but that still doesn’t stop his imagination from warping his perception, each one rising out of the shadows threateningly. Then he sees it. The Table. It sits innocently in its own corner, the most dangerous artifact here. The Not!Them is nowhere in sight, although for how long Jon has no idea. Still, without destroying the Table and with his minor protection from the Eye, Jon hopes that he will be safe and the Not!Them will not make an appearance. It’s a flimsy piece of hope, but it’s the only thing keeping Jon from bolting. That and the fact that Sasha’s life is at stake.

The wood itself is cool to the touch Jon cautiously wraps his hands around the edges of the Table. He’s half expecting to hear footsteps, hear that taunting laughter in Not!Sasha’s voice, feel sharp fingers on his back or shoulder. None of that happens, instead the silence holds, deep and deadly. Taking a step, Jon begins to drag the Table towards the door, the screeching sound exceptionally loud. If anyone remained in the Institute, Jon would have worried about the noise. Instead, his path is thankfully undisturbed, and he reaches the front doors without issues.

Deciding to leave the Table inside until Breekon and Hope arrive, Jon sits on one of the chairs in the lobby to wait. It occurs to him that the Coffin would be considerably harder to drag around the Institute hallways compared to the Table. Luckily, Artifact Storage has a sack trolley that doesn’t take too long to locate and bring to the front. While he waits, it occurs to Jon that without the Coffin in Breekon and Hope’s possession, they won’t be throwing Daisy into it after the Unknowing. Not that Jon had intended on going, especially since the ritual would collapse without the explosives. Still, would the Daisy he knows and considers his closest friend still be the same without that shared traumatic experience and distance from the Hunt? He hopes so.

It takes over an hour for Breekon and Hope to arrive with their van, giving Jon enough time to figure out a recipient. Unfortunately, they’re aren’t many options. Seeing them pulling up outside the front door, Jon begins to drag the Table out to them. Surprisingly, the Not!Them hasn’t yet made an appearance. He’s trying not to question it, instead just hoping it stays that way. Breekon stands there, waiting for Jon to approach him with the Table, as Hope begins to unload a large, familiar shape. The Coffin. Within moments it’s out, its dark chains clanking against the pavement and giving off a dull shine in the light of the streetlamps. Even in the dark, he can still read the rough transcription in its lid.

“This it then?” Breekon asks, looking at the Table.

Jon nods. He gets the feeling Breekon is examining him for some reason, although he’s not sure why. Behind him, the Coffin is unloaded and placed on the pavement before Hope expertly picks up the Table and places it into the back of the van. Breekon finishes his silent examination without a change to his expression, but still takes a moment before speaking again.

“Delivery address?”

“Jude Perry,” Jon responds before giving the only known address for her he remembers.

He’d given it a bit of thought and decided if there’s any Avatar that could destroy this thing, it would be her. Mostly because Trevor and Julia are still in the United States, and Jon doubts the Table would reach them. Breekon nods and begins to head towards the van, getting in silently. Then the door slams shut and they’re driving away towards the Cult of the Lightless. Jon sighs, and begins to heave the Coffin up the stairs, suddenly glad that he grabbed the sack trolley. It’s a lot heavier than he thought. Even with the sack trolley, by the time he’s dumping it in the darkest corner of the dangerous artifacts area, sweat is already beading off his face. But it’s done, the Table is gone. Sasha is safe.

Jon heads home for the first time in a long time.

The next morning, he comes in early the next day, hardly able to sleep from the night before. He’s too excited, too relived. He’d considered the potential consequences of removing the Table and replacing it with the Coffin, deciding he could deal with them when they came up. And none of them were as bad as Not!Sasha. He’d listened to the tape again, confirming his own memories of the three assistants matched up with the descriptions he’d given himself. They did, and the worry and concern that Jon temporarily feels melts away. That future is gone, Jon can relax a little.

Tim, Sasha, and Martin aren’t in yet when Jon arrives, but that’s not unexpected. After all, Jon intentionally came in much earlier than the other normally would, purely to help himself figure out his next moves. And to remember exactly where he is with the statement research to help him remain undetected, especially from Elias. Opening the door to his office, Jon sees the light is already on, a figure waiting beside the desk for his arrival. Elias Bouchard.

He stands there, in a pose that would have been more intimidating if only the desk light was on and the rest of the room was dark. Still, he carries a power, an all-knowing look due to his powers as an Avatar of the Ceaseless Watcher. Jon tries very hard not to stare daggers, not to run and hit Elias in his smug and punchable face. He has to act natural, has to pretend that everything is normal, that Elias is a normal boss and not a manipulative eldritch abomination. He tries to smile but isn’t sure if he succeeds.

“Morning Jon,” Elias says, cheery as ever. “I need to have a quick word with you. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Morning Elias,” Jon responds in the only way he can. He’s barely holding back the rage.

Elias looks at him with a curious smile, and Jon is certain he’s noticed the change. But how much does he know? How much does he think Jon knows about everything?

“Are you alright Jon? You seem different.”

“What is it Elias?” Jon tries very hard to not spit it out at him, instead making it sound exasperated.

Elias sighs and continues to look at him curiously.

“One of the artifacts, a Table, disappeared and new artifact mysteriously appeared in Artifact Storage last night. You were working late, and I wondered if you knew anything about it?”

There’s no way that Elias doesn’t know it was Jon who switched the Table for the Coffin last night. He’s trying to find out why, trying to find out what Jon knows without making it obvious that’s what he’s doing. The fact that he doesn’t seem to mention the disappearance of the Table means he’s either trying to cover up the fact that someone stole an artifact, or that Elias is trying to be subtle. Jon knows better.

It occurs to Jon that he could give the game up to Elias, let him know that he’s from the future, that he’s come back to stop the ritual and apocalypse from ever happening, that he’s here to save the people he cares about. But playing his hand now, this early, doesn’t seem sensible and he knows Elias won’t make the first move. Not yet anyway.

“I don't know where the Table is and I didn’t hear anyone else in the Institute if that’s what you’re asking,” Jon responds.

It’s technically the truth. He was the only person working late that night. Elias contemplates his response for a moment, both of them clearly seeing through the other’s intent. Eventually he just sighs.

“I see,” he says before giving a slight pause. “Jon, something’s wrong. And don’t give me that, I can see it plain as day. What is it?”

“It’s nothing. Is there anything else you need?” Jon responds again, shutting down the conversation. He’s not ready to engage in a full-on conversational game with Elias just yet. Despite the pause, he knows it’s not over, just tabled for now.

“Nothing else I’m afraid,” Elias says as he begins to head towards the door. Hand on the handle, he continues. “Look, you’re doing good work down here Jon, and recording the statements has been exceptionally useful. Whatever this is, I’m sure it will sort itself out eventually.”

Jon nods, trying very hard not to laugh at that. Of course recording the statements is useful, after all, it only helps make him into an Avatar of the Eye. Realising that he’s not getting a response, Elias turns to leave, and Jon gets the distinct impression this conversation is far from over.


	3. Rivers and Very Large Stones

The next week falls into a rhythm for Jon, as he becomes more and more comfortable with being back in the past. He’s definitely acting nicer towards Martin and pointedly trying to ignore the heartache he gets every time Martin looks at him without that lovestruck smile. There had been more than a few moments where Jon, standing near enough to Martin, had reached to grab his hand or had begun to lean into him, only to stop himself at the last second. To play it off as some other inconspicuous movement. He doesn’t think anyone has noticed.

But aside from that, he’s pretty sure that he’s gotten his own attitude mostly correct. He’s still trying to be the slightly grumpy boss that they all know him as, although he’s slipped more than a few times. He’s also been playing up the sceptic angle again, especially on the cases that only record onto tape, and refrained from making any remarks related to any of the entities. He’s also been subtly removing some of the eye motifs from his home and office. If Elias had noticed that one though, Jon didn’t know. Elias hasn’t been down to visit him again, keeping his distance and watching from afar. Jon doesn’t know if he should be thankful for that or not. He doesn’t know how much Elias has figured out, but he’s not ready or willing to help him fill in the gaps.

Still, now that the immediate danger from the Table was gone. The news of its disappearance had spread through the Institute like wildfire, with several vague and preposterous theories about what happened to it. About why a coffin had mysteriously appeared in its place. Still, Jon kept his mouth shut and hid a smile every time the Researchers spoke about it in his vicinity. It helped that the Researchers also clearly knew not to open the Coffin thanks to a note he’s left on the lid, Jon feels he can relax. Take the right amount of time to figure out what to fix next. Then he pulls the statement of Carlos Vittery, and his heart stops.

It’s a simple enough statement, a classic bit of manipulation from the web and too many spiders for Jon’s liking. Something true. What makes Jon pause though is that he recognises the statement as the one Martin was investigating when he gets besieged by Jane Prentiss and the Corruption. This is it; the moment Jon has to make the next biggest choice in this new path he is trying to build. Does he subject Martin willingly to two weeks of terror? Does he confine Martin to the Archives for months? On one hand Jon knows that Martin will be safe, that he’ll be fine in this timeline as he was fine in the last one. On the other hand, though, could Jon really do that to Martin again? He might have made several jokes about never being able to look at canned peaches again, but Jon knew from the quiet moments in Scotland the experience had terrified him. Scared him far deeper than he wants to admit.

Before Jon, the choice stretches out, two different paths he could take. He knows which one his heart wants him to take, knows which choice he logically should do. Why did they have to different though?

There’s a knock at the door and it opens.

Making up his mind without thinking, Jon adds the statement to his desk draw and quickly closes it. He doesn’t need to put Martin through that again. He can’t. Quickly arranging himself in position that he thinks isn’t suspicious, he watches as Martin comes in. Martin looks at him suspiciously for a moment, probably having noticed the rushed flurry of movement.

“Yes Martin, what is it?”

“You said you had some new statements for me?”

New statements? Oh, the pile that he is currently sorting through, the pile that previously included the Carlos Vittery one. He’d been staring at that statement, deciding what he should so with it for too long, and now has no idea what is in the other statements in the box. Picking up the three top ones, hoping that they were all fake and there is nothing dangerous about them, Jon gestures them out towards Martin. Martin takes them quickly, still looking curiously at Jon.

“Jon. Are you alright?” He asks.

Is he alright? He’s just saved Martin from being imprisoned by a bunch of worms for nearly two weeks. Jon smiles with a smile that he knows will make no sense to Martin. Just like with the Table, Jon feels like his actions in the past are slowly changing the future for the better, saving his assistants, his friends, from the horror that is to come. Even if they have no idea what he’s doing. Of course, he’s all right.

“Yes Martin. I’m fine,” he responds for propensity’s sake.

Martin gives him a small side-eye and leaves slowly. For an instant, it reminds Jon of his own actions, his own paranoia that drove Tim away. Chuckling to himself, he lets his good mood dismiss it. Martin may be working for the Magnus Institute but unlike himself, the Eye won’t be pushing for the heightened state of paranoia that was required to manipulate Jon’s actions. Perhaps his slight mood change was a little less subtle than he hopes, and Martin is just a bit suspicious. Perhaps it is just that Jon was acting strangely by rapidly shoving a statement into his drawer just as Martin entered. It sits there, heavy and burning a hole with guilt, but Jon doesn’t reopen it, knowing that if he does, he will begrudgingly add that statement to Martin’s investigation pile. Trying to ignore it, Jon pulls another statement off the pile Sasha left him this morning and begins to record.

The week passes without issue and everything seems to return to normal once again. Martin keeps coming into work, not besieged by worms at his own apartment. Then Taylor Yanoti comes in to make a statement. Then everything changes.

The name is unfamiliar to Jon, the person never appearing in his nightmare zoo of true statements, and Jon needs a brake. So, he offers a live recording, one which Taylor accepts without issue. Then the computer doesn’t work, the recoding corrupting as it has done so many times already in a way that is instantly familiar to Jon and his heart drops. This is a true statement, one which is too late to back out of now. One which will become a new addition to his future collection. Trying to conceal his building combination of dread and sorrow, Jon pulls out a tape recorder and begins to talk slowly in a futile attempt to delay the inevitable.

_Statement of Taylor Yanoti. Statement recorded direct from subject, March 3 rd, 2016. Statement begins…_

After she’s left, Jon reflects upon the statement, head in his hands and panic rising like a coming tide. Taylor’s an opportunist burglar in her spare time. Low scale thefts and minor brake-ins to people with sub-standard security systems. She claimed to not take anything big, just things that might not be missed or reported, things she could do up and sell on one of those swap-and-sell sites without attracting too much attention. As a result, garages and basements were good targets if the opportunity arose. That was how she’d found themselves in the unabandoned basement of some random person yesterday. A basement with a woman who sat there, full of holes and worms and song. Upon hearing that, Jon had tried very hard not to jump or feel exceptionally guilty, knowing what may soon be coming for Miss Yanoti. Jane Prentiss has claimed a new victim in the basement of Carlos Vittery, and even now might be preparing to besiege Taylor. She had continued without noticing Jon’s slight stare, detailing her escape from the basement. Jon had thanked her for her time before letting her leave with a short farewell. He didn’t say anything else, not sure what to explain or how to do it, words coming only after she’s gone. Instead he sits there, staring at a wall. He hasn’t moved yet, or even given a follow up comment. The tape recorder keeps running.

Jon knows that messing around in the past would have had changes in the future. He’d thought about the consequences and thought that he’d be ready to deal with them as they came. But in this case, this one is entirely his fault and a random person’s life will forever be changed because he was trying to protect Martin. Is that how it works now? Save his assistants, his friends, or save the innocent people out there? It’s a choice Jon doesn’t need to answer, despite now much that answer makes the guilt weigh on his back like a stone.

“I thought I saw something strange happening.”

The voice come out of nowhere and everywhere, despite previously being alone in the room. It’s a voice Jon distinctly recognises, despite not having heard it for a long time. Not since the House of Wax.

“Michael,” Jon says in surprise, looking around.

Behind him, he spots a simple door that shouldn’t be there. That isn’t there and will never be there. In front of it stands a silhouette that Jon easily recognises, with too long fingers and too narrow, twisted limbs and twirling blonde hair. Michael. There’s a small twisting of confusion running through Jon. If he remembers correctly, Michael had approached Sasha first before coming to Jon far in the future. He shouldn’t be here, yet there he is standing in the same room as the statement that shouldn’t have existed.

“Hello Archivist,” Michael smiles. It’s as inhuman as Jon remembers. “Isn’t this curious, we’ve never met before and you knew who I was.”

“I’ve heard of you,” Jon replies, deciding to follow the safest response. “You were formally one of Gertrude’s assistants.”

No need to inform Michael that a future Avatar of the Spiral will become them and will one day send Jon back in time. At the mention of Gertrude, Michael’s smile hardens and his eyes grow cold. Despite this, he walks around the room to sit in the seat opposite Jon with his chin resting in raised and crossed fingers. Instinctively, Jon jolts backwards a little, the memory of those impossibly long fingers carving their scar into his palm. Michael notices, his smile widening.

“You think I wouldn’t notice a door opening into this place without my knowledge,” Michael continues. “A door that twists and spirals from so far away and yet impossibly close. A door of impossible design. One that steps beyond the fabric of what should have been, what was once reality itself. I know, Archivist.”

With that, he leans backwards confidently, a smile like a cat that got the cream. Jon stares, mind blanking again in panic and acceptance. Of course Michael would have known that Jon is from the future. Of course he would have realised. Of course he would have come to see Jon as he deals with the first real consequence due to his changes to time. This realisation doesn’t do too much to help, but it does give Jon a few small moments of clarity. Clarity that lets him realise that he’s still in the Magnus Institute and probably under the watchful gaze of Elias. Is he watching now? Did he just hear what Michael has said? Glancing at the ceiling is an instinctual reaction at this point, one which Michael watches with a smile.

“Scared something might see this?” Michael says, emphasizing the word see like a private joke. “With that thing running?”

He gestures to the tape recorder, still running, still recording. Jon slams the stop button, silencing the little whirring tape. He’d grown so used to tapes appearing when he encountered the esoteric that he’d not even noticed it. That was probably a habit he should try and break, lest he accidently record something else that would reveal his true nature. Jon sighs.

“Yes,” he responds.

Michael smiles at that, gesturing to the door behind Jon.

“We could always go somewhere more private.”

“No.”

He’s not going into those corridors unless he absolutely needs too, not since Michael wanted him dead. Not since it might count as a Mark. Compared to Elias knowing something he’ll inevitably figure out, there isn’t much of a choice. It was a nice secret while it lasted, he’ll just have to be a little more careful from now on.

“Very well.”

“Why are you here Michael?” Jon asks, already guessing the answer.

Michael gives a small snort of laughter, confirming his suspicions. He’s here because Jon’s changing the future. He’s here because there’s something Jon doesn’t know as he runs around in the past like a rat in a maze. He’s here because Helen thought it would be more interesting if Jon didn’t know all the facts. Michael doesn’t respond for a moment, clearly enjoying his own private thought, which doesn’t feel right to Jon for a moment. Then he remembers that he’s human again, that he no longer has the compulsion of the Eye behind his questions. That Michael doesn’t have to answer. Despite everything, it’s a nice reminder that he can stop wording questions as statements, something he’d been subconsciously doing since he got back.

“I want to help, Archivist,” Michael eventually responds. “It’s clear that you travelled back from the future without knowing anything about how the fabric of reality and time twists and turns.”

“And you’re here to tell me?” Jon asks suspiciously.

“Yes.”

Michael’s smile widens and waits for Jon’s response. Jon says nothing for a moment, waiting for Michael to continue speaking instead. After a few brief moments, he does, leaning forward as if telling Jon a secret.

“The thing about time, Archivist, is that it has a path it wants to follow. It can twist and turn as much as it wants, changing the way it travels due to how you act. But it always tries to end up back on the same path it was initially on. That makes it very easy to tangle up and lose itself.”

“So, the future is inevitable?” Jon asks, trying to keep his voice steady. “Nothing I do will make a difference or change what is going to happen.”

He doesn’t like the concept of this. Did Helen send him back into the past as some sort of twisted joke? To have him run around and try and change the past while it just corrected itself again in the background. It didn’t seem like something the thing that calls itself Helen would do, but she was an Avatar of the Spiral. Perhaps this was in her new nature. Paranoia building, Jon starts thinking back to all the things he’s done. The little things, little changes, the Table and the Coffin. Would his issues come from the Coffin instead of the Table, trapping Sasha in its depths before Jon will be strong enough to free her. Was this time’s way of reintroducing his paranoia, having him looking over his shoulder at the things he’s changed and watching them go back to normal? Michael laughs briefly at his comment, not caring or noticing Jon’s reaction.

“On the contrary, everything you do now twists and turns and tangles what should be. You are changing the future, Archivist. Your previous visitor is a prime example of that. Time just likes to try and correct itself, fix the path you have pushed it from. I believe the old saying is something about rivers and very large stones. You push left, it pushes right soon after. But it always loses itself. Overcorrects, one might say.”

“Consequences,” Jon responds in a single tone.

At least it was nice to get some conformation that it is possible to change the future and consequences were something he already knew was going to happen. But the way that it’s phrased gives Jon a small hint of doubt. Michael had worded that like reality itself is acting against him, is his own enemy. That’s probably why the Spiral has some small control to send him back in time at the height if its power. Everything he’s doing it twisting it further. Turning the timeline and the future into an endless Gordian knot.

“Sort of,” Michael says before giving it a moment’s pause. “Everything you do will have a consequence to it. It’s just that the harder you push, the more you try and change the fabric of what should be, the more it pushes back, twists itself up in the other direction. And the further it ends up from what you want things to be. What things would have but shall never be.”

“I see.”

“Do you, Archivist?”

As Michael asks that, he stares at Jon, looking for something. There’s an intensity to those few words that Jon hasn’t every really heard before from any Avatar of the Spiral. It’s more than just a question of if his twisting speech made any sense, it’s as if he’s talking to Jon on behalf of reality itself. A challenge.

“Yes.” There’s a stubbornness to Jon’s tone as he says that. It’s not that he completely understands what Michael is talking about, but rather that he needs some time to think about it.

“Very well, I shall leave you to it for now,” Michael responds, catching the dismissal.

He stands slowly with a smile that gives Jon a slight pause. There was something more to his words, something that Jon completely missed. Jon watches him as he walks back towards the door that is not there. Pausing with his hand on the handle, he turns back to face Jon for a moment with a smug smile.

“Oh, but you should know that just because reality can never do a perfect job of fixing your actions, it doesn’t mean it won’t try.”

With that warning, he’s gone and Jon’s alone.

Throwing his head into his hands, Jon thinks about everything he’s just heard. Anything Jon did would have consequences and that time would try and correct itself, causing things like what happened with Taylor Yanoti. Someone had to go into that basement, so instead of Martin, it was Taylor instead. Or was it because Martin didn’t draw away Prentiss, the next visitor did? Was Taylor always going to attempt to burgle Carlos’s basement? Michael had made it seem like that when Reality tries to fix the changes he’s made, Reality gets it wrong, makes the changes and its consequences bigger. Although, Jon can’t see what the consequences of Taylor going into the basement instead of Martin would be, aside from the obvious eternal nightmares they will soon face. But compared to Martin being happy, Jon thinks it’s worth it.

What was it Michael had implied though; the bigger the change to time, the bigger the consequence Jon would face? Was Martin undergoing a worm siege in his own apartment so insignificant to the path of history that all that happens is one extra statement fed to the Eye? If that is the case, then it’s worth it. Martin is worth it. And the Table? Jon had sent it to Jude Perry in the hopes that she would destroy it and the creature trapped within it. She’d probably already done that. Does that mean the Stranger will be trying to find another way into the Magnus Institute? He’d have to be careful about that, keep listening to the tape to ensure that Tim, Sasha, and Martin were unchanged.

There is one easy way going forwards to reduce the threat from Reality’s _corrections_. Make sure the changes Jon makes from this moment on are small. Little nudges to history that won’t have a massive consequence in the future until there is no other option. That way he can not only protect the people he cares about, but he also knows what’s coming. He can prepare instead of being constantly dealing with the consequences of his actions. It will take a little more thought, more preparation, but Jon thinks he can do it. He’ll just have to plan it out once he gets home tonight and away from the gaze of Elias.

Standing, Jon walks automatically back towards his office, mind still running over the path of the future, the changes he can make and the ones he probably shouldn’t. He’s not paying attention to the familiar surrounding passage that connects the room that they are using to collect and record the statements, and the main Archives. He still notices the others, taking a moment to pause and look at them all. Martin sits at his desk, furiously typing something into a computer screen that is angled away from the main passage that Jon is coming down. Sasha and Tim are pretending to be sorting boxes silently, obviously in the middle of some joke or conversation that they don’t want Jon to hear. He gives them what he hopes is an appropriately disapproving smile, causing Sasha to dissolve into giggles, before heading into the office and sitting down.

As he reaches to grab a tape recorder to play back his tape, he notices that one of the drawers is slightly ajar. The one with the Carlos Vittery statement in it. Mildly confused but deciding to ignore it, Jon grabs the tape recorder from a different drawer and loads his own tape in, the one describing his assistants. Better to be safe.

_“Recording the descriptions of Tim, Sasha, and Martin…”_


	4. Confessions and Consequences

“I don’t know Tim,” Martin’s voice echoes down the hallway as Jon heads into work. “Something’s up with him.”

Jon’s running late today, a combination of staying up too late planning his next moves and somehow sleeping through several alarms. Hurrying into the Archives, those words stop him temporarily. It’s not hard to guess what Martin’s talking about. Well, who Martin’s talking about.

“Because he’s acting nicer than normal?” Tim responds jovially. Even from the hallway, Jon can tell exactly what Tim means by that.

Martin doesn’t say anything in response and Jon can imagine him going bright red. He didn’t know exactly when the Martin developed a crush on him, but apparently it was shortly after Martin had been transferred to the Archives. Of course, Jon had been somewhat oblivious to the whole thing, even before his paranoia settled. Looking back and now living in the moment, he’s amazed he didn’t notice anything sooner. Didn’t notice either Martin's or his own feelings. Feelings that bubbled beneath every interaction. That's the hardest thing about being in the past, the fact that he couldn’t say anything to Martin, couldn’t grab his hand and lean into his chest and close his eyes in the warmth. He’d stopped short circuiting like a schoolboy with a crush every time Martin walks into the room, but that didn’t stop the heartache. Especially considering everything that happened to Martin, a memory Jon is unsuccessfully trying very hard to forget.

Eavesdropping, Jon waits for either one of them to continue. He wants to, needs to hear more.

“It has been odd,” Sasha says after a while.

“If that’s your definition of odd around here, I think you’re in the wrong job,” Tim jokes.

Sasha snorts and even Martin gives out a small giggle. Jon can’t help but smile, after all, he was easily the oddest thing here. A former eldritch monster sent back into their previous human self by an impossible spiralling entity fuelled by the power of the apocalypse. It's not exactly a normal lifestyle path.

“Not that,” she continues. “It’s just, did you see him yesterday. The statement rattled him badly, and we don’t even know what it was about because he hasn’t even added it to the research pile. And then there’s…”

Alright, that was enough of that conversation. Despite the fact that Michael didn’t mention he’s from the future until after the tape stopped recording, Jon didn’t want the assistants hearing that particular statement. Not with the knowledge of what might happen during any further research and Michael’s appearance. So he’d taken it into his office and hidden it in his desk with the Carlos Vittery statement. Striding forwards and into the room, Jon pretends not to notice the sudden hush and sideways glances. Although he does see Tim startle before trying to take his feet off the desk in a hurry, only to get them stuck on the chair.

“Morning Jon,” Sasha calls to him, completely dropping her previous sentence without any hint.

“Morning Sasha,” Jon responds. “Tim. Martin.”

“Morning boss. Late night?” Tim says, finally managing to get his feet back under the table.

“Something like that.”

Heading into the office, Jon dumps his satchel on the desk. It clatters against an empty mug formerly filled with tea he’d left sitting on his desk. Jon pauses for a moment, an idea turning in his head. If they thought he is being too nice, he might as well do something he’s been wanting to do for a while now. He heads back through the door and towards the kitchen. Before he can mentally reprimand himself and before he loses his nerves, he turns to Tim, Sasha, and Martin.

“I’m making some tea. Anyone want a cup?” He asks the three of them.

If anything, it’s worth it for their expressions. Both Sasha and Martin try very hard to hide their surprise, mostly succeeding, except for the slight stare from Martin, and Sasha’s very quick response to chug her takeaway coffee in an effort to hide her face in a natural way. Tim smirks, eyes darting between Jon and Martin, which is far more worrying than it should be. It occurs to Jon that that might have been too friendly, too out of character. That offering everyone else tea had always been Martin’s thing. Sasha preferred coffee and Tim only ever drank it if someone else was making it. And Jon, he’d only ever made it for himself in the early days.

“Watch it Martin, Jon might be gunning for your spot as resident tea maker,” Tim jokes as he tries to reach around and jostle Martin, causing Sasha to struggle not to give a snort due to a mouthful of coffee.

“Hey!” Martin responds to Tim, not looking at Jon.

Sasha raises her takeaway coffee towards Jon, clearly a response of denial to his offer. Jon looks at the other two.

“I’m fine by the way,” Tim smiles. “Martin makes a pretty good cup already and I don’t want to taste the leaf water you’ll bring out.”

“I know how to make tea Tim,” Jon indignantly responds.

He’s back in Scotland, Martin going through the motions, showing him how to properly make tea. He’d always initially been _just dump a tea-bag in hot water and wait a long time and ‘vola’, there’s a cup of tea for you_ person. Then he'd add a bunch of milk and sugar to combat the bitterness. Upon seeing this, Martin had not only been completely horrified, but had also called him a heathen to the art of tea and subsequently banned Jon from using the kettle. Jon had pretended to sulk until Martin dragged him into the kitchen for a proper lesson on how to make a decent cup of tea, for when Martin wasn’t around to do it for him. It was a nice memory, the warmth of the afternoon sun and Martin’s soft voice, hands slowly guiding him through the correct motions. Realising he’s falling back into old memories; Jon shakes himself out of it and looks at Martin.

“Martin?”

“Come on, someone has to taste what Jon calls tea,” Tim goads towards Martin.

Martin looks towards Jon, the expression on his face nearly unreadable. It’s a combination of things that don’t quite make sense, but if he had to guess, he’d almost say suspicion. That wasn’t what Jon is hoping for, although perhaps it’s to do with the fact that to them, Jon has never done this before. He waits nervously for Martin to answer hoping it’s a yes. He hopes it’s not too visible.

“Sure…” Martin responds after a few silent moments that feels a lot longer than it should have. Then he smiles and Jon’s heart soars. “Three sugars, dash of milk. But if you get it wrong…”

“Let me guess, you’re not drinking it,” Jon smiles. “I’ll do my best.”

Martin nods a response and tries very hard not to blush a little. Jon turns to face the bench so that the others cannot see his face. He’s unsuccessfully trying very hard not to beam. Reaching for the mugs, Jon starts going through the motions, Martin’s voice in his ear reminding him how long to wait after the water has boiled, how long to steep the tea for. He’s back in Scotland once again. Perhaps he should have asked Helen to send him back there instead, to get Martin to check the statements and to spend far longer in those few weeks of memories that he treasures deeply. But that would leave both Sasha and Tim dead, and Daisy as a full Avatar of the Hunt. It doesn’t stop the desire building though, and the guilt that comes with all that. After all, it’s much harder than he would have thought, being here in this time with a Martin that doesn’t look at him the same way anymore.

Lost in thought, he nearly lets the tea sit for too long. There’s no use dwelling on the past, not when the future is all that matters right now. Grabbing both cups, he thinks he’s done alright with the tea, not as good as Martin would have done, but still alright. Careful not to spill any, he heads back and gently places Martin’s cup on the drink coaster that is a permanent addition to Martin’s desk. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t want to see if Martin drinks it. He’ll ask Martin about it later. Maybe.

It’s only once he gets to his desk that he remembers that he’s finished recording all the statements in hit to-do pile, which means he should be in the Archives, sorting boxes and finding a new stack of statements to record and research if the Research Team hasn't done their jobs again. Sighing, Jon grabs his phone and tea from the desk and heads back into the main room. As he walks by, he notices Martin hasn’t drunk anything yet.

The rest of the morning is spent hunting through boxes, finding the statements that Gertrude has filed in unique and unusual places in an effort to confuse either Elias or the Eye. Jon’s not particularly doing a very good job of sorting them quickly, instead he’s just making small piles that he’ll move around eventually before dumping in some small box and subsequently forgetting about. Knowing the true nature of the Magnus Institute gives him less of a reason to properly sort the Archives compared to before. Almost less so, as he now knows that each true statement he records begins to turn him from Jon into the Archivist. Eventually, Tim joins him to help, forcing Jon to actually do some decent work. For appearances. Although he needn’t have worried, as Tim seems distracted about something. Eventually, Jon hears him dump a stack of papers on one of Jon’s neat piles, accompanied by the fluttering sound of papers making a dash for freedom through the Archives. Head currently in a box and is sorting through another random assortment of statements, Jon doesn't turn to see what the mess is.

“So, Martin…” Tim says. Even though Jon can't see Tim, he can imagine the smug expression.

The words startle Jon. He makes a conscious effort to compose himself before turning to look at Tim. Tim’s leaning against one of the shelves, arms crossed, looking at Jon with a knowing smile. It’s not particularly hard to guess what Tim means with those words. Jon panics, his brain instantly going into shut down mode. How did Tim know? Is he less subtle than he though? No, he must just be guessing, or fishing for gossip. It occurs to him that maybe this is part of another bet between Sasha and Tim, although for what purpose or stakes, Jon has no idea.

“What about Martin?” Jon asks, trying to sound neutral. “His work has improved greatly since he started.”

He’s panicking, picking a path that seems safe without thinking. He doesn’t have time to think, as any pause would come off as too suspicious.

“Right…” Tim says, holding the word for longer than he should.

He gives Jon a knowing wink, clearly waiting for Jon to respond of carry on the conversation. He doesn’t respond. There isn’t a response that Jon can think of that doesn’t turn him into a stuttering fool or an obvious liar. Instead he turns back to continue sorting through the box, picking up the next statement with careful hands. It’s an older one.

A sudden weight lands on his shoulder and hangs of his side. Tim, who’s sneaked up behind Jon thrown his arm around his shoulder like two friends sharing a secret.

“So, I was thinking,” Tim starts, leaning into Jon’s vision. “About maybe asking out Martin on a date?”

Jon sputters instinctively, horror and confusion evident in his expression. Tim dating Martin, the whole idea is heart breaking. Watching Martin fall in love with someone that wasn’t him. Everything else vanishes, the necessity to keep his feelings a secret included. All he can do is stare at the smug face of Timothy Stoker. This isn’t supposed to happen.

“I.. You… Apph… But…”

His words are gone, every response nothing more than meaningless dribble. Hearing this, Tim jumps back in static elation and looks at Jon with a large smile. This expression not only brings Jon back to himself, but also bring the entire situation crashing down upon him, including the realisation that Jon’s fallen right into Tim’s trap. And now Tim knows. Well, if nothing else, it’s nice to get a heads up on how screwed Jon is going to be shortly. If there’s one thing Tim can’t do, it’s keep his mouth shut when it comes to gossip, especially romance gossip.

“I knew it! You…”

“It’s just that office romances complicate things,” Jon interrupts, trying to salvage the conversation and throw Tim off the scent with the first lie he can think of. He thinks his voice is back to a steady disapproving tone. “And if you want…”

“Uh ha ha. You like Martin.”

“I do not,” Jon stutters back.

Tim looks at him pointedly with a smile, not believing a word he’s said. With that, Jon knows for certain that he’s been busted. Sinking to the floor, he leans against the shelf behind him and looks up at Tim with a sigh. He runs his hands through his face and hair, giving himself a moment to think. If Tim here still, then maybe, just maybe, he could not immediately run and tell the others. Looking back at Tim, Jon sees he’s back to leaning against his shelf, looking down at him, smiling. Waiting for Jon to talk. This time, he does.

“Alright. Yes, I like Martin.”

He has to pause before the word like, trying to find the right word. Like isn’t the right word and love would be a better one. But Tim doesn’t need to know that. Better to let him think he’s got a bit of a crush than to let him know how deeply Jon misses and needs him. Better not to let him know how many times Jon has had to abort holding his hand or giving him a hug. He’d taken to make sure at least one article of clothing he’s currently wearing has pockets, just so he could shove his hands into them so they didn’t do something embarrassing on their own.

“How’d you know?” Jon suddenly asks.

It occurs to him that if Tim knows, then maybe Sasha, or god forbid Martin, also knows. If that’s the case, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to walk through the office again. Tim gives a laugh.

“You’re not exactly subtle about it.”

Shit. Does that mean Martin knows? Seeing Jon’s briefly horrified face, Tim smiles and continues.

“Relax. I can’t speak for Sasha, but Martin’s just as oblivious as you are.”

Oblivious? Oh right, Martin’s crush on Jon. There’s a moment when Tim looks mildly guilty as he realises that his mouth has moved faster than his mind, like he’s just said something he shouldn’t have. That Martin likes Jon, a small fact Jon isn’t supposed to know yet. Tim keeps rambling, trying to cover up his slip. Jon wants to relish in the moment, to give back to Tim the awkwardness of the conversation a moment ago.

“I mean, how you’re always such a sceptic who doesn’t believe in the supernatural and yet you’re…”

He stops, seeing that Jon's grinning up at him with enjoyment at his rambling panic.

“I’m not that oblivious Tim,” Jon smiles. “I know.”

There’s a tenderness to his words, a gentle longing, and an unspoken wish. Tim smiles back, a silence holding the air between the both of them. It’s a nice feeling, two friends talking, and one that Jon and Tim haven’t shared in a long time. According to Jon’s perspective on things anyway.

“So…” Tim drags the word out, looking at Jon expectantly with an excited tone.

“So what?”

“So, when are you going to ask him out?”

Jon stares. Ask Martin out? Not only is that not supposed to happen yet, but also how would he do that? He can’t just go up to Martin and confess everything. Confess how Jon loves him with every fibre of his being, how his heart does summersaults every time Martin looks at him, how Martin means everything to him. How he’s the reason Jon tried to remain human, even when the hunger seemed to overwhelm him. How he’s Jon’s anchor, the only thing that kept Jon safe in the apocalypse. How he’s already been lost to Jon before in a memory Jon’s trying to forget. How does he put all of that into words, into a little sentence that summarises anything? If anything, Jon would just come off as a stalker or insane or a blabbering idiot, and he’ll lose Martin forever.

“It’s not that simple Tim,” Jon says, unable to put anything in his heart into words. Not that he wants to anyway.

“Oh, I see,” Tim responds with a tone of understanding that surprises Jon. “You’re his boss. Power imbalance and all that and you don’t want to end up with a harassment case if things go wrong.”

Ah. Jon had completely forgotten about that. Coming from a time when everyone understands the truth behind the shit-show that is the Magnus Institute, where no-one has a care for the proper power structure, has caused him to completely forget that harassment cases are actually supposed to be a thing. But here and now, in the past when Tim, Sasha, and Martin are unaware of the truth; the fact that Jon is their boss still means something. Despite Jon not being an eldritch monster with the powers of compulsion and knowing, there’s still a massive power imbalance between Jon and Martin already. It’s almost ironic in its own way.

Despite this, Jon’s not exactly scared of HR, not since they failed to do anything meaningful during everything that happened. But Tim doesn’t know that. If anything, it might be a good cover as to why Jon’s done nothing and will continue to try and not act on his feelings.

Jon nods, pretending to agree with that sentiment. He gives it a moment before speaking.

“Look Tim, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to anyone.”

“Sure thing boss,” he says with a smile that Jon doesn’t believe. “Although if you want to…”

“Tim.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Absolutely.”

Tim winks cheekily and grabs the next box. Sighing, Jon stands up and returns to going through the box he’d found, sorting the statements into piles that will one day mean nothing to them. It’s mostly being organised by the time the statement was taken, with no consideration to how they relate to the 14 Entities. Together they work in mostly silence, although Tim makes several comments, triggering small conversation. Initially they’re about Martin, until Jon makes it very clear he’s not talking about the subject, and Tim finally drops it. That or he drops it because he succeeded in sending Jon bright red. He’s considering stopping for lunch when Martin comes in. Jon has to avoid the completely unsubtle nudge Tim sends in his direction.

“Jon. Someone’s here to make a statement.”

Then Martin turns and is gone from the Archives. No mention of anything else, no hanging around, no explanation. Jon looks at the grinning Tim with a warning glance, before heading out the Archives. He could use a break, and a fake or drug induced statement to help him forget about everything that just happened seems like a welcome distraction.

Unfortunately, the digital recording device leaves the test audio covered in static. Another true statement, one that shouldn’t have existed. One that didn’t previously exist. The second one in as many days. Even before Jon starts the statement, he’s got a pretty good idea which Entity and Avatar it will be related to. The Corruption and Jane Prentiss.

This time the statement was courtesy of Cedric Jollarus, a resident of a the Wallrun Apartment Tower, who was reporting on the strange happenings at the flat across the hall from him. A flat belonging to one Miss Taylor Yanoti. According to Cedric, there had been some sort of disturbance in the hallway yesterday evening. He hadn’t gone out to check, given that it was late, and he was enjoying his television show. In the morning though, on his way to the grocery store, he’d noticed that her door was open. Investigating it to see if it were some sort accident, and to close it if needed, he’d spotted the hallway covered in dirt and filth. A few small steps into the apartment and he’d already stepped on the body of a creature. A worm. A few more steps, and a few more squished worms later, Cedric could hear the singing, a strange hollowing, discordant sound that was a beautiful sickly sweet. It was almost intoxicating as he walked through the short hall and into the main area at the back of the apartment. There were more worms here, more bodies squelching underfoot. That’s when he spotted Tayor, back towards him and wearing a filthy red dress. Realising everything was fine and mildly embarrassed for breaking into her flat, he’d left quietly and quickly shut the door. But the whole thing was mysterious enough that he’d felt like coming here. He didn't think social services would believe him.

After confirming that Cedric had not been bitten or touched by any of the worms apart from the ones he'd stepped on, Jon had thanked him for the statement, assured him that they’d deal with it, and let Cedric leave. Jon had no intention of letting any social worker or police officer near someone he is certain in Jane Prentiss. Wherever Miss Taylor Yanoti is right now, it is unlikely that she is in any good shape. And Jon knows that this is entirely his fault. Instead of having a worm siege against Martin, then camping out in the Institute tunnels for the next few months, it seems Jane Prentiss is now going on a killing spree, trapping folk in their apartments. The universe’s way of not getting Martin no doubt.

In regard to the post-statement notes, he’d given a brief follow up, mentioning its connections to statement 0160303. Then he’d hit pause and sat for a long time in the statement room, thinking. He’d half expected Michael to show his face again talk about the consequences of his actions. Michael didn’t. He didn’t need to. And Jon isn’t sure how many innocent lives Martin would be happy he’s spending to keep him safe. How many lives does Reality think Martin is worth? In a way, Jon doesn’t want to know the answer.

It occurs to him suddenly, that without Martin’s interference, without his own personal worm siege, Jane Prentiss has no reason to go after the Magnus Institute. Instead, it looks like she moves that destruction around, following victim after victim. So, if she never attacks the Magnus Institute, how then would Reality and time react? Would it just cause Jane Prentiss to continue going after innocent civilians on a corruption spree in an attempt to create some new ritual? Would she go after the Magnus Institute anyway? Or would it cause a different Entity to send their minions after the Archivist in retaliation for something Gertrude did?

At least with Prentiss’s attack, they’d had preparation, early warning, and Jon had mistakenly triggered it too early. A full attack on the Magnus Institute by an unknown force? Jon is certain that there would be casualties, probably within his own Archival Assistants given the events of his history. But that would mean he instead needs to make the Jane Prentiss attack occur, needs to send Martin to investigate, needs to trap Martin in his own home for two weeks with nothing but tinned peaches and worms. The thought fills him with guilt, and he sits there for a long time.

At some point during his thinking, he’s wandered from the room and into his office without realising it, probably to stop whatever suspicion is building among Sasha, Tim, and Martin. There he sits, at his desk, thinking about everything. The two tapes and the statement of Carlos Vittery lie before him before him, calling to him with guilt and choices. He doesn’t want to give these statements to any of the assistants, he wants to lock them in his drawer and forget about them all. Wants to protect them all, especially Martin. But give what Michael said yesterday, he dreads the fallout from Reality trying to correct itself. Who else would get hurt, suffer, and die before it ended? What if it was someone Jon cares about?

He knows what he has to do.

Grabbing the latest recorded statement, the one of Cedric Jollarus, he heads towards the door. Martin will be fine, Jon repeats to himself with each step, trying to convince himself that he is doing the right thing. He’s survived it before and would do so again. And with the Table gone, the attack by Jane Prentiss will be safe for Sasha now. Jon takes a breath before opening the door, the final precipice of choice stretching before him. Acting before he can change his mind, Jon opens the door and heads towards Martin’s desk.

Martin’s working on the final write-up of some statement background research, typing furiously, an empty mug by his side. Jon can’t help but smile at that, Martin drank the tea. As he approaches, Martin looks up at Jon.

“New statement for you Martin,” Jon says quickly before his mouth can betray him and say something he doesn’t mean to. “I’d like it done as soon as possible if that’s alright?”

He desperately wants to ask about the tea.

“Sure. I’ll look at it tomorrow,” Martin responds. “Anything else?”

Ask him about the tea. Ask him about the tea. Ask him about the tea. He can’t think of anything else, except from stopping his limbs from shaking. Jon knows it’s a distraction, a way to not think about everything he is about to put Martin through by giving him this statement. Suddenly, he can feel an uncontrollable shake coming on in his hand, so he holds it behind his back, hoping no-one noticed. Tim does.

“No,” he responds.

He drops tape onto Martin’s desk, the clatter echoing as Martin’s foreseeable future is sealed.

And with that he heads back towards his office. Tim gives him a disappointed look, clearly having seen the shaking and misinterpreted it. He is probably still expecting Jon to ask Martin out one of these days. Once in the safety of his office though, Jon completely drops the composed act, collapsing into the chair and shaking hard. He’s muttering small apologies to the man on the other side of the door, one who has no idea what’s coming and what Jon’s just done.


	5. An Overdue Conversation

Martin doesn’t come into work the next day. Instead he sends a text, letting Jon know he’s got a bug and won’t be in.

Jon knows the truth.

He tries very hard not to worry, to keep acting like everything is fine. It’s impossible. All Jon can imagine is Martin, locked in his apartment, waiting for a crack to form and for the worms to get through and devour him. Waiting to become another statement. Another victim. Another mystery. There are moments when Jon even misses his old abilities, the power to know that Martin’s alive and well. To know that he’s fine, as fine as one besieged by worms could be.

Jon grabs the next statement from his pile in a futile attempt to try and distract himself from Martin. It doesn’t work, the paper hanging limp in his hand as Jon worries. It doesn’t help that the door to Jon’s office is open, and he can see Sasha and Tim and the hole Martin has left behind. A hole Martin shouldn’t have had to leave. It stares back at him, the ghost of Martin Blackwood, accusing him of everything he’s done. Jon didn’t have a choice, didn’t want to believe that he had another choice. Compared to what could have happened, what was beginning to happen, this is the better option. Plus, Martin survived Prentiss last time, he’ll be fine this time round. He has to be.

Still, Jon desperately wants to grab a fire extinguisher and head straight to Martin’s apartment. Blast Prentiss and the worms into oblivion and rescue Martin. It’s almost a fantasy, Jon kicking down the door and running to a Martin who’d catch him in his arms as Jon fell from exhaustion and a few worm bites. Of course, the Martin would gently remove the worms, smiling down at Jon the whole time. And Jon would kiss him. Then reality would hit Jon on the back of a head with a brick and he would remember that that is all just a fantasy. A daydream. He’d probably get eaten by worms before getting to the door. Even if he did get through, did rescue Martin, he doubts that a surprise kiss from someone you might have a crush on counts as mutual consent.

And then the Archives would be attacked by something else, and someone else might get hurt. Or killed. No. It’s better for the Prentiss attack to occur, since Jon knows it’s coming and when Martin gets back, he’ll finally have an excuse to prepare for it. Finally have a reason to change the fire suppression systems and obtain several dozen fire extinguishers. It doesn’t stop Jon feeling any less guilty.

“Jon’s in his office then?”

A familiar voice cuts through the worry, giving him a brief moment to concentrate on the more immediate threat. It’s a smug, honeyed voice that grinds Jon’s teeth every time he hears it. Elias Bouchard.

Jon has been expecting a visit from the man ever since his conversation with Michael. A conversation where Michael just casually revealed that Jon is a traveller from the future. Elias wants to figure out how much Jon already knows and if he’s going to be a threat to the ritual in the future. And if this is the case, Elias will need to replace his Archivist with someone new.

The thought of Sasha, Martin, or Tim going through anything he experienced, will experience, makes Jon shudder a little. That’s a future that cannot happen. Whatever happens today, Jon cannot give Elias a reason to _replace_ him. Although the fact that Tim and Sasha are on the other side of the door does give Jon a small false sense of security. Elias isn’t foolish enough to attack Jon and expose himself within shouting distance of others, even if the others are trapped here and cannot leave. And three of the Archiving staff disappearing on the same day is a little more than mildly suspicious. If anything, Jon will be walking out of the Institute alive and well this afternoon. Tomorrow though, that’s a different story that depends on the next five minutes.

Elias interrupts Jon’s thoughts by poking his head around the open door. Stepping through, he shuts it behind him, cutting off the sounds of typing and chatter from Tim and Sasha. Elias and stands at the desk, looking down at Jon with an intense gaze. The gaze of The Watcher.

“Jon. We need to talk,” he says without any sounds of suspicion.

“What about? Elias,” Jon says, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“I think you already know.”

There’s a silence that weighs over them both, one both of them hold as they look at each other. Elias is trying hard to look like a normal non-eldritch boss coming down to discuss an issue about something as mundane as the paperwork, while Jon is just trying not to let his hatred of the man show.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jon eventually and slowly lies.

Elias frowns at that, tilting his head sideways in exasperation. He can tell Jon’s lying.

“Jon. I do like to keep an eye on what’s happening in my Institute, and I noticed that a few days ago you had a conversation with some creature.”

He carefully spits out the word creature like an insult.

“If this is the case,” Elias continues. “I’m interested in a statement from you about it. For academic purposes obviously.”

Liar, Jon thinks. Elias only wants the statement so he has an excuse as to how he knows about the conversation Jon had with Michael. An excuse that doesn’t involve The Beholding or Watching things that he wouldn’t normally see.

“It was a short and mostly meaningless conversation,” Jon says. “If we find anything, or anything comes up related to it, then of course I’ll make a statement.”

If anything, he wants to see how long he can keep this conversation up before Elias admits he was Watching. Jon’s not under the illusion that Elias is going to be walking away empty handed this time, that the conversation that he’s been waiting for will happen now. A conversation built on two weeks suspicious behaviour. Jon doesn’t want to admit anything that Elias doesn’t know, not yet anyway. If Elias wants to know what’s going on, he’ll have to make the first move.

“Of course,” Elias eventually responds, keeping his voice a deadly, even tone.

He pauses, thinking for a moment. Jon lets him. Eventually Elias continues with a small smiling huff, clearly deciding something. A new approach to the problem that is Jon.

“So, how are the Archives treating you? I know I’ve not been down here much since you started, but I’m impressed with your work.”

“Thank you, Elias,” Jon responds. “It’s been difficult to try and get this place organised after Gertrude left this place in a bit of a state.”

“Well, it’s coming along nicely. And the digitizing?”

“That’s coming along slowly,” Jon pauses for a moment, knowing he should leave the sentence there, but the temptation is to great. “It doesn’t help that some of the statements refuse to record onto my computer.”

He’s baiting Elias, trying to get Elias to be the first one to admit something isn’t right about the Magnus Institute. Trying to get him to admit about the Entities first. They both know that they know, but how much Jon knows is another question. It’s a question Elias wants answered before he reveals anything. The air falls silent, the muffled sounds of Sasha and Tim disappearing into oblivion as the room seems to suspend in time. All that matters is Jon and Elias and the words resting between them.

“Refuse?” Elias asks with a feigned look of curiosity and confusion.

“They come out corrupted and impossible to listen to. Hence the occasional tape.”

“Luckily Gertrude had some old tape recorders lying around then.”

Elias smiles as he says that, taking Jon’s previous challenge and responding with one of his own. They both know why she had a stash of tape recorders and fresh tapes around, even if it never was a conscious decision.

“Yes,” Jon says, keeping his voice a questioning neutral. Playing the part of the head archivist. “I wonder if she recorded any tapes herself. It seems a strange thing to keep in the Archives.”

Elias can’t help but suppress a small smile. Jon guess that the whole concept of Jon’s feigned ignorance, his play to draw Elias into breaking first, is entertaining to Elias in some strange and annoying way. Like watching a rat run through a maze. Only Jon didn’t know if he is headed for the exit or not. Elias still takes a moment to consider his response, the silence stretching out far longer than the second he waits before answering.

“Gertrude always was a little strange,” he dismisses, gesturing towards Jon with practiced encouragement. “If there are any down here that she recorded, I’m sure you’ll find them eventually.”

There’s a pause after he says that, Jon considering how to respond. He could shut the conversation down, let Elias find another route. It would be easy and inconspicuous and while Elias would know exactly why Jon did it, he would accept the defeat. Perhaps he would leave and let Jon worry about Martin in peace, planning his next approach. The idea makes Jon hesitate though. This is a conversation that they both need to have, and while Jon could afford to leave Elias stewing for at least another month, how he’d approach next could be something unimaginable. Something dangerous.

“Do you know why she’d have it?” Jon asks eventually, accompanying it with a smile. “It looks like she didn’t make any attempt to digitize the Archives.”

“Honestly Jon, I have no idea,” Elias lies. “Perhaps when taking a few live statements there were some people found who it easier to talk than to write?”

“Why not use the computer?”

“You said it yourself, sometimes statements _refuse_ to record digitally. I believe you’ve run into that issue before yourself.”

There’s a hint of amusement now in Elias’s voice, a familiar smug tone, condensing into a singular word. Refuse. It’s not incorrect, the true statements always have and always will refuse to record digitally, each one dissolving into nothing more than corrupted static. The past Jon had run into this problem before, and therefore it was perfectly acceptable for Elias to know about the ‘difficult’ statements. It might have been years since he took the first live tape statement, but Jon still remembers it well. Mostly because of the nights Jon spent fighting the fog, straining and calling and trying to free Naomi from the graves. Then he’d spent what felt like a helpless eternity watching her instead, feeding her fear to The Eye.

“Ah yes. The statement about the woman and the graveyard.”

He name is Naomi Herne. Her fiancé was a former Lucas. She had an encounter with the Lonely and barley escaped back into this version of reality. She was the first nightmare Jon collected, unintentionally and accidently through an attempt at being compassionate. Before he realised what the live statements did. Before Martin made him understand what the live statements truly did. But this Jon would have no reason to remember her, a woman who is nothing more than another statement. Another unexplainable incident.

“Quite,” Elias smiles, seeing through Jon.

“Well,” Jon continues, making an attempt to steer the conversation back to safer topics. Topics he had more control over. Topics that didn’t hint at darker nightmares. “If she did have any statements recorded on tape, I’m guessing that’s they’ll be in a random box hidden among the Archives. Probably with her body.”

The last sentence is unnecessary, a slip of the mouth and a joke that he thought he’d said in his head. It was Elias, staring him down again that brought out the worst in Jon’s sense of humour, a humour that only like to show itself in the presence of dangerous Avatars. But in this case, it was almost more than that. A whisper of the truth that Jon knows. At the very least, he’d slightly lowered his voice when he’d said it. Elias still heard it.

The room around them takes on a strange atmosphere as time begins to start again. Slowly ticking forward, Sasha and Tim still silent in the background. Jon still sits in his chair, Elias looming over him in power but not stature. He stands too far back from the desk to visually loom. But Jon still sees it in the shadows and the air. There’s a glow to the age in his eyes, a radiation of who he is. What he is. He’s smiling now, a smile that Jon recognises. Jon broke first. The game goes to Elias.

“Jon,” Elias says with a hint of flat disappointment. “I know that Gertrude’s disappearance is a bit of a mystery, but that’s no reason to start making the sorts of jokes I’d expect from Tim.”

It’s nothing more than a boss reprimanding an employee for a dark and mildly inappropriate joke.

“Sorry,” Jon says. He’s not.

“It’s fine. It’s not like I don’t already know that you know.”

His words are casual, as if his declaration is nothing more than an announcement of what he had had for dinner last night. The next beat in the flow of the dance that is their conversation, instead of the end of the illusions.

“Know what?” Jon responds, trying to keep his voice steady.

“I know, Jon.” There’s a deliberate tone to Elias’s words now, the game finally growing old and the amusement dying in his eyes.

“Know what?” Jon repeats, emphasizing each word. Making Elias spell it out for him.

“That you’re from the future.”

There’s a moment of silence and peace as Elias says that. It feels to Jon as if Elias should be pacing, should be walking the room, saying that revelation with his back facing Jon. Perhaps even holding and looking at some meaningless artifact or item. Instead, Elias still stands there, almost motionless, watching Jon as he speaks. It would almost be creepy if it weren’t for the fact that Jon knew he could be much worse. Martin and Melanie were proof.

“Ah. I figured you _saw_ that,” Jon eventually says, leaning back in his chair and emphasising the word saw like a private joke. It is, one they both very clearly understand.

Hearing this, Elias smiles knowingly.

“So you also know about me. I thought that was the case since you called yourself the Archivist.”

It takes Jon a moment to remember when he dropped that particular title. Breekon and Hope. He’d used it in an attempt to make himself sound more important than he currently is, completely forgetting the implications of if Elias heard him. What it would let Elias know about him. The Archivist is more than just a position in the Magnus Institute, it is a position in the service of Beholding itself, accompanied by both knowledge of the Entities and the powers of an Avatar. It’s strange, how one simple word can convey so much about the future. How one word can imply so much.

“I do.” Jon tries to keep himself calm as he responds, his answers becoming short and unquestioning as he tries to keep the hatred from his voice. Now that the illusion is up between them, Jon doesn’t have to pretend that he doesn’t despise Elias.

“And what else do you know?”

The temptation to reveal everything rises again within Jon, threatening to bubble over. Jon wants to divulge the future, to throw it all in Elias’s face like a victory. ‘I know everything,’ he wants to say. ‘I know everything about you, what you want and what you will do.’ But that would not help anything, except confirm the surety of Elias’s victory that Jon will one day try to change. If Elias knows about the future, the success of his plan, then Jon might find himself joining Gertrude Robinson with a new Archivist taking his place. An Archivist that wouldn’t be protecting Sasha, Tim, and Martin. An Archivist who might even be Sasha since it is clear that she is currently the best successor. The thought fills him with no small measure of dread. As tempting as it is to rise to Elias’s taunting grin, he has to protect them.

“A little.”

Elias pauses for a moment, studying him. Jon stares back, trying to see past the ancient power that rests behind those luminous eyes. He can’t. All he can see is Elias studying him. The moment holds again, time still turning, as Jon waits for a response. He could talk, could ask a question. But what to ask? What to say to Elias? There’s nothing but an emptiness in his mind where the words could have been. Without warning, Elias leans back slightly, an expression of confused interest now resting on his face.

“Archivist,” he says with a smile. “You clearly hate me for something I guess I will do to you in the future.”

So, Jon has been less successful at hiding his feelings then. He’s not surprised. Seeing Elias like this, all smug expressions and pointed conversations has brought out his worst feelings towards that man. It reminds him of every conversation trapped in this place, alone and desperate and manipulated into becoming something no-longer human.

Jon says nothing, he has no response to this declaration of a simple fact. Elias continues.

“To Sasha. Tim? Martin?”

With each name, whether by the power of Elias or just his own memories, Jon is sent back to each of their demises. Each of their fates. Sasha. He sees that elongated and twisted smiling face of the thing that called itself Sasha. The thing that replaced her and all the memories that they once shared, the tape with the true Sasha’s final scream, the laughter and the chase down the tunnels beneath the Institute. Tim. The bright lights and the distorted circus music. The last words to a grinning mannequin. But even before that with the pain and suffering of being trapped in an inescapable hellscape of a job. The hatred whenever he looked at a Jon that dragged him into all this. Martin. Collapsed in a realm of fog and trying to fade into forgettable oblivion. The small moments of despair recorded on tape after he was confronted by Elias. The final look in his eyes under an all-seeing sky, the sharp webs that wind around his fingers cutting deep into his skin. That final scream for Jon, a scream that Jon is still unsure if it is the Martin he loves with all his heart or the final torment of the Mother of Spiders. He can’t think about it, won’t remember, won’t let that happen again.

Jon visibly pulls himself back to the past. He’s not trying to hide it, doesn’t know if Elias sees the memories or not. Doesn’t care enough to do anything except not let a single tear fall down his face.

“Ah, all of them, but Martin most of all,” there’s a sense of victory to Elias’s words. “I had no idea you felt that way about him. I mean, I saw that your feelings changed almost overnight, but I didn’t realise it was this strong.”

It’s a remark of curiosity, the gaining of an upper hand that surprises Jon. The victory behind his words almost makes it seem like some massive discovery. A discovery that Jon thought Elias had already seen. How did Tim see something that Elias didn’t? How could Elias not see the desperation and the loss in Jon’s face every time that he saw Martin? How did he not know that Martin made Jon human, made Jon whole? The concept of it all, of Tim being more observant than Elias, brings reality crashing back down upon him with no small hilarity. It’s absurd enough to do him the favour of shoving those memories to the back of his mind for now.

“What do you want Elias?” He’s doing a good job at keeping his voice from shaking, keeping it steady and neutral.

“I want to know why that creature sent you back.”

To twist reality. To stop the future. To save Martin. Jon says none of these, looking at Elias with silence. For the first time, the smug smile breaks in annoyance at Jon’s refusal to tell him anything. It’s a look that has been described to Jon, one he’s heard in the silence of the tapes, but not one he’s seen yet. Around him, the room darkens as Elias patiently waits for Jon to say nothing.

“If you’re from the future,” Elias continues eventually. “Then you must have known that sending Martin to investigate the Jollarus statement would lead him to his current predicament. Given how much you clearly care for him, I surprised you let him investigate. I wonder if you know exactly how much fear he is feeling right now?”

Elias doesn’t need to elaborate on his threat, doesn’t need to make its implications any clearer. He can feel the fear, pressing up against the corners of the room and his mind. It waits on the air like a dagger poised to strike. A dagger Jon doesn’t want to feel. The decision to place Martin through all that pain and fear is a necessity he’s been regretting since he dropped that file on Martin’s desk. He doesn’t want to know the full damage of the outcome. Not because he doesn’t think he deserves it, but because he doesn’t think he’ll survive it. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to walk away from everything one little piece of paper did. Still he waits a few moments, hoping Elias will drop the threat. Elias doesn’t.

“Alright,” Jon concedes. “Sasha, Tim, Martin. They don’t make it.”

He follows each name with a slight pause, a small emphasis on his pain and his eyes flick down to look at the table. He notices his hands, which at some point have risen and now rest on the table, clenched together. He can feel his fingernails digging into his palm, the pain a minor distraction. The memories press against the feeble barrier he’s banished them behind.

“All alone are you?”

There’s no comfort to Elias’s words, no pity, no understanding. Just a simple fact.

“Yes,” Jon sighs, still looking at his hands. “I just want to save them.”

Elias takes a moment to consider. Jon takes this pause to look back up at Elias. The looming, all-seeing presence is gone, hidden behind a facade of polite interest.

“Very well,” Elias eventually says. He pauses for a moment before realising something. “And what of your own future? Do I need to consider looking for a replacement?”

“You can’t shoot me right now while Tim and Sasha are on the other side of the door if that’s what you’re implying.”

He knows that’s not what Elias means, it’s just his mouth talking faster than what is sensible. Spilling out words he shouldn’t have said in the presence of a dangerous Avatar. A jovial comment that has no place in the heavy air of the office. Jon needs to stop doing that at some point. It doesn’t mean he regrets it though. Elias is not impressed, remaining silent with a frown.

“You won’t need a new Archivist,” Jon continues with a tone more appropriate to the situation. There’s a pause, a thought coming to him. “In exchange for a few conditions.”

“Oh?”

A slight eyebrow raising, the hints of a smile, the unchanging stare are all Jon gets with this declaration. It’s amusement, clear as day, that Jon thinks he has any bargaining power in this situation. After all, Jonah Magnus stands before him, Watcher and servant of Beholding, blessed with the powers of his god and several lifetimes of plotting. He sees all, knows much. All Jon is the former Archivist sent back, all he has is his knowledge of the future. It occurs to him that that simple fact makes Jon more powerful than he’s realised, that he knows the things Elias can never know. The future. He has the power to make the demands he wants, within reason.

“You leave the others alone,” Jon says, voice steady and deliberate. “No manipulation. No purposely driving them to become my replacement or their own Avatars. No using that perfect bit of information to leave them an emotional wreck.”

Elias doesn’t look surprised by this, but the small creeping smile is gone. His voice comes out low and steady, realising the same thing that Jon has also just realised. For the first time in his life, he is not in the position of power, and he doesn’t like it.

“I see. Well, I can hardly promise that considering that…”

“I won’t stop them if they chose this path willingly,” Jon interrupts. “But it has to be willingly, and they have to know what it means.”

“You not telling them about the Entities,” Elias responds, picking up on Jon’s unspoken element to his compromise.

“It’s not like they can leave. They need to know.”

Jon stares down Elias and Elias looks back, unblinking. The tension lifts and holds the air around them and time turns. Looking into those cold luminous eyes, Jon realises that while he might have the power, Elias is still a very real and very dangerous threat. Elias has the power to make Jon’s life hell, or just replace him if he becomes less of a resource and more of a nuisance. Jon could deal with the fallout, but he could go after the assistants instead, take his anger out on Martin. There’s a time and a place for these battles, and it isn’t now.

“Fine,” Jon continues, conceding once again to Elias. “I will consult you when I think it is the right time to tell them.”

He will tell them one day: he’s not compromising that much.

“I can work with that,” Elias says before pausing briefly in consideration. “And I’m guessing I’m not allowed to touch them if they act against me? Given your reaction to me, I guess that in your past, that was the case.”

It’s not a stretch for Elias to figure out, leaving Jon unsurprised. It’s also not that surprising that Elias is blatantly lying to Jon. If the others, or Jon, act against him in any way, he will bring down that perfect soul-destroying piece of information upon them. All Jon would get is a final warning, a singular chance to stop them from making that mistake. He has no intention to put Martin or Melanie through that again. Or Tim. Or Sasha. Or Daisy and Basira.

“I’ll deal with it if it happens,” Jon says.

Elias smiles briefly.

“Very well. Anything else?” He asks expectantly.

Jon takes a moment to consider everything. There are so many little things that Jon could demand or ask that Elias would shut down. Or twist, forcing Jon to compromise. But he can’t be battling Elias on every decision, especially since he might need Elias to do things for him to help nudge the future in a more agreeable direction. He just doesn’t know what yet. Jon gives it a few moments thought.

“Yes,” he says eventually. “If I ask you to do something, you do it.”

Elias nearly laughs at this request, amusement shining clearly in his eyes.

“You might be the Archivist, but I hardly answer to you. I am still your boss after all.”

“Not that that really matters anymore.”

Jon’s words carry the weight of his time, his future. A time where, despite fearing the power of Elias, they are just as likely to tell him to fuck off as they are to listen to him. A time where multiple attempts have been made on his life, and Jon is mildly regretting talking Melanie down from her murder quest. There’s no illusion here, no game of boss and head archivist. Instead this is Jon, which his knowledge and recklessness of his future self, who will one day become the Archivist, facing down someone he’d rather see dead. Elias understands.

“I’ll need an explanation as to why you’re making those _requests_ and I’ll consider it,” he eventually responds after a moment’s thought.

“Fair enough.”

It is the best Jon could hope for. He’d just have to be careful about what he reveals.

“Anything else?” Elias asks.

“Not that I can think of,” Jon responds.

“Very well, Archivist.”

Elias nods and heads towards the door, conversation over. The tension that Jon hadn’t realised drops from the air suddenly, leaving him feeling light and cool, like a thick blanket has just been removed from his shoulders. Jon silently lets out a small breath of relief as Elias’s hand touches the doorknob. Then he pauses, hand still resting in that place, inches from granting Jon freedom. He turns and looks back one last time.

“If you stop what you are destined to become…”

Elias lets his words trail into oblivion, lets them dance around the air and echo in the room. The treat is clear to Jon, it visible in his honey tone, in the depths of his eyes, in the facade of a smile. It’s a threat aimed at someone he knows will be messing around with the future that is to come. One that promises not only ruin to Jon, but the ruin of those he loves, those he cares about, those he came back to save.

“I know. They pay the price.”

Jon’s words are level and poised. He understands what Elias can do, and has no desire to subject them to his power

“Exactly,” Elias smiles. “Enjoy your statement.”

And with that, Elias leaves. Through the open door that slowly begins to close, Jon can see Sasha and Tim typing away. Elias pauses by their desk, turning to speak with Sasha for a moment.

“Sasha, you’re familiar with Artifact Storage. The researchers up there need some help moving some artifacts around. If you could…”

The door closes and the conversation muffles beyond recognition. Moments later, he watches the shapes of Elias and Sasha leave his vision. Collapsing on the desk, exhaustion, and relief wash over Jon as the tenseness of his body fades away, tension he didn’t even know he had. Elias’s last threat still hangs in the air and whispers into the silence, but it almost doesn’t bother Jon as much as it should. He survived. Better still, he came out of that conversation with some small truce with Elias. A truce is better than nothing, and at least he no-longer needed to be subtle about his situation when he is alone. Now all that is left is the waiting game, so the final pieces of his preparations can fall into place. But first, he needs Martin to return.


	6. Relaxing into the Past

The next two weeks are painful for Jon. He ends up spending a lot more of his time in his office, trying to distract himself from Martin’s situation. Both Sasha and Tim pick up on his change of mood, despite Jon’s best efforts to hide it. He’s not surprised though. Jon’s gone from joining them at lunch and during breaks, laughing and being a friend, to holing himself up in his office, preferring his own company. It’s easier than explaining why he keeps waiting for Martin in the silence between sentences. Why he constantly watches the door, waiting for Martin to burst through. Why the empty space that Martin should fill stares back at him accusingly.

You knew this would happen; it says. Why did you let this happen to me?

Sensing something is wrong, Sasha and Tim had decided to give him the space he needed. Sasha had accompanied it by asking if he was okay or if he needed to talk to a therapist. Jon didn’t answer any of her questions, afraid that the truth might come out. Tim, on the other hand, had given him some comforting pats on the shoulder and a knowing wink, and Jon pretended that that made him feel better. Tim had tried to talk to Jon once, while Sasha was helping the Practical Research team move some artifacts around under a code of silence, and Jon had shaken him off. Courtesy of a combination of worry about Martin and worrying about what Elias would do if Jon accidentally said anything suspicious.

It didn’t help that Elias kept requesting Sasha to help the Practical Research team in re-arranging Artifact Storage. Jon tried very hard not to worry, knowing that Sasha was in the hands of Elias, despite their fragile truce. He’d tried to talk to her about it, only to be answered with a worried "everything’s fine" answer. An answer Jon knows means she's hiding something, although without the power of Compulsion, it is impossible to tell what. Luckily, it only takes several days before she's back, safe and allowed to talk about it. About why Elias had stolen Sasha under an oath of silence for a few days.

According to Sasha, she’d had to spend a few days in Artifact Storage, moving a few of the more dangerous artifacts into a side room to help lock away the most dangerous of the Artifacts into in a place of Elias’s choosing. A place he had decided not to share with anyone else. This drastic and sudden change was mostly prompted because one of the Practical Researchers with a talent for lockpicking had decided to find out what was in that strange singing Coffin and had unlocked it despite Jon’s note. They’d lost three people to the Coffin, two in the initial curiosity and one on a failed rescue mission, before someone managed to find a new lock. And the only reason this news hadn’t spread across the Institute like wildfire was because Elias had been keeping the information under a strict ‘need to know’ lockdown until the situation had been dealt with. In an attempt to prevent anymore unnecessary deaths, of course.

Upon hearing this, Jon’s heart sinks. This is his fault. He didn’t know any of the Practical Researchers well, and he only knew of the ones that ended up in the Coffin in passing, but that didn’t lessen the guilt. If he’d been smarter, hidden it better, bought a new lock, covered the lock in concrete, none of this would have happened. Jon also knows he can’t rescue them either, not now, not without being the Archivist. Anyway, he’d probably be unable to find them, considering he doesn’t have a very strong anchor to any of them. An that mean he would also have to find where Elias has stashed the Coffin, something Jon's in no hurry to do. Elias never spoke to Jon about the incident, except from a single side-eye when Jon had gone racing up to Artifact Storage after hearing what had happened. He couldn’t have spoken to Elias about it though, not with everyone there and the other staff members in the Magnus Institute gathering to pay their condolences. Still, it gives Jon a bit of a distraction from feeling terrible about Martin, instead letting him feel terrible about the three people whose lives will be an eternity of Buried thanks to Jon.

He’d sat in his office for a long time.

In his attempt to somehow hasten the return of Martin, Jon’s also pretty sure he’s somehow managed to record a record number of statements. Most are doomed to immediately fall on the ‘unlikely and most definitely fake’ pile. As expected though, there is the handful of true ones, each one sending a small jolt of hope through his heart. He can’t remember exactly which statement Martin barged through the door on, but it could be this one. The one he’s reading right now. Yet when Jon’s finished the follow up, the office door remains closed, and Jon has to sit alone with the shadows and the Eye. The loneliness doesn’t help, instead making him think of Martin, trapped and alone in his own apartment. Prentiss has sent a few more texts to Jon, each telling him that Martin’s got a bug. All expected, all the same as last time. It still hasn’t gotten easier.

When he reaches the statement on Moira Kelly, his heart skips a beat. He has to stop reading, has to give himself a moment to pause and recompose himself as he remembers his past. This future. It’s all on tape of course, all neatly recorded for whatever listens to him monologue this particular statement. But that doesn’t matter because this is it. This is the statement that Martin returned on last time. This is the day Martin comes back, the day Jon finally knows that he’s safe. He can hardly get through the statement, the budding power of the Eye guiding him hungrily through the words. But he still has to stop, has to pause every now and again, has to slowly make his way through the text. After what seems like eternity, he finally gets to the end. He’s too nervous to properly get through the research follow-ups, accidentally dropping the papers and sending one drifting through the room on a non-existent breeze. Martin should be here. Martin should be here. He’s reached the end, so where’s Martin?

In that pause, Jon worries that he’s made a terrible mistake. That Martin’s dead. Hands shaking, he goes to condense the papers on his desk into a neat pile, trying to distract himself.

Then the door slams open and Martin charges in. Terrified and unharmed.

Alive.

Jon tries very hard not to let the relief and joy show, tries very hard not to run and hug Martin and makes sure he’s alright. He tries very hard to sit in his chair, composing himself into the boss they all know him as. Hopefully Martin can mistake his relief for surprise.

“Good Lord! Martin? What the hell?”

The statement itself is similar to how Jon remembers it, although it was nearly 3 years ago from his perspective, so his memory is a little foggy. Nether-the-less, once it’s over, he offers Martin a place within the Archives to stay, promising protection from Jane Prentiss. It’s an offer Martin accepts gladly, with the tiniest hint of suspicion. That’s new? Still, the fact that Martin accepted the offer means that he’s safe for now. And Jon’s mildly impressed at himself because he somehow managed to keep himself composed throughout, without giving Martin the biggest hug possible or fussing over him like a mother hen. He’d had to sit on his hands though, lest he unintentionally reached out and grabbed Martin’s. When the text comes from Jane Prentiss, he’s expecting it. He remembers it coming from last time, baring its ominous message and promise of a Ritual attempt. Still, Jon doesn’t think his behaviour is too suspicious as he looks at the new message with a fake surprise and concern. It’s good to get conformation that the attack will still be happening. It may have already begun, although the idea of Jane Prentiss crawling beneath the Institute gives Jon the shivers. He hides it well.

After confirming that Martin’s going to be alright and checking that he’s absolutely certain that he doesn’t want Jon to make him a cup of tea, Jon sets up the small cot in the Archives. He’s stashed an extra blanket in a corner in preparation, Martin gets cold toes at night, and make sure the pillows weren’t the hard, lumpy things he’d dealt with in the past. No, these ones were new and soft, like falling into a marshmallow, that Jon’s purchased specially. Martin had been thankful, sitting at the table in the kitchen area with a cup of tea. Jon’s also made sure that they have a stash of Jasmine tea specially for him in one of the cupboards. A decent cup of tea that Jon brings to Martin gently and places between in hands. Martin stares at it, two weeks of restless sleep were finally catching up to Martin, the bags under his eyes finally blooming as tiredness begins to weigh him down. Jon knows how inappropriate it would be to wrap a blanket around his shoulders, so instead he offers to show Martin where the cot is and drive him to pick up any spare clothes.

This is the moment that Tim and Sasha decide to return.

After explaining the situation to them all, both Tim and Sasha decide that Martin’s not leaving their sight. That Jon and Martin are not going by Martin’s house alone in case Jane Prentiss is waiting. Jon knows she’s not, knows she’s beneath the Institute, but can’t say that without arousing suspicion. So together, the four of them bundle into Jon’s small car, destined for Martin’s place. It’s much better than the last road-trip they will take in this car, the one on the way to the House of Wax. By the time they get there nearly 20 minutes later, Tim is already in stitches and Martin is trying very hard not to laugh courtesy of Sasha. Jon doesn’t speak much on the journey, instead taking the moment and the welcoming atmosphere in.

Martin very quickly grabs his things. Sasha and Tim help while Jon trying very hard not to look at the rudimentary defences. He’d decided that the others might see it as inappropriate if their boss went through Martin’s things, and suspicious if he already knew where most of it is kept. He's done this already before leaving for Scotland and it’s not like Martin’s apartment will change much in the future. Before Jon knows it though, they are all bundling back into his car, boxes on their knees and returning to the illusioned safety of the Institute. The volume is quieter on the way home, mostly because Martin, needing a rest, falls asleep on Sasha’s shoulder. The only noise is a small conversation between the three of them. And noticing Jon’s silence during everything, the ‘ever observant when it comes to romance’ Tim tells Jon to stop worrying and take a break. Martin is going to be fine.

For the first time in a long time, Jon finally believes it.

He does listen to his tape when they get back though, just to be certain it’s really Martin. It is.

The next few months begin to pass in a blur for Jon. Shortly after Martin moves in, Jon delves into the tunnels on one occasion, just to see if he can find Lechner. It's a hopeless mission, although Jon does notice the garbage wrappers in the corners, subtly indicating that someone is still living in the tunnels. However, he never finds Lechner. He does find Gertrude’s body though, tucked away where Elias left it. After a few choice words, he leaves it alone for Martin to find. No need to drag that into the mess right now.

After Sasha’s encounter with Michael, luckily with no mention the Jon situation, Jon enacts the final stages of his preparations, as a strange and sudden desire for CO2 no longer seems precognitive. This had basically meant marching straight to Elias and telling him that he needs all the fire extinguishers in the Archives to be Carbon Dioxide based, along with a large supply of fire extinguishers. Elias had smiled, talking briefly about budgets, until Jon informs him that the Institute would be attacked in the next few months, and if they were all to survive then he needs this. With that same smug smile, Elias asks if there is anything else.

In that spur of the moment, Jon also make a quick decision about an idea that he’s had for about two weeks. Given the fact that Reality is likely to try and correct the no-longer death of Sasha James, Jon doesn’t want her alone during the attack. This would mean that she couldn’t pull the fire alarm, couldn’t get Elias to set off the fire suppression system. Jon could have started a fire in the Archives, something he’s certain that Elias would punish him for, or could brave the worms and pull the alarm himself. But considering there was a simpler solution, Jon has designated both those ideas as last resorts. Instead he tells Elias that he needed him to pull the fire alarm, activate the fire suppression system, and eventually save their lives from the worms. Elias had initially refused, saying it was up to the merits and powers of Jon to survive this, until Jon had pointed out that the alternative was to set an actual fire in the Archives.

Elias agrees to do this.

He’s aware that he can’t change and effect too much for the future, and now that the preparations for the Jane Prentiss attack are mostly complete, Jon finds that he can finally start to properly enjoy himself. There’s not much left he thinks he can do or needs to change. Then Melanie comes to make a statement. When she walks into the Magnus Institute, Jon is struck by how different she looks. Gone is the defeated, trapped, defiant look that had characterised her last months before she quit. She’s not even the slaughter-driven woman who protected the Archives when Jon was gone. She’s just Melanie, full of life and spunk and a dislike for Jon. It’s so different from the Melanie that Jon knows, to the point where he almost doesn’t recognise her. Almost. He wants to tell her to walk away, to not make a statement, but with Elias watching he knows that’s not an option. So instead he gives her the paper and a pen and tells her to write it down. He’s not putting her in his nightmares forever. She’s not happy but she complies. Then she’s gone for now, and Jon can finally relax.

Finally enjoy the time with his assistants. His friends.

In the month he’s already been back, Jon has already shifted from the grumpy boss into the person he’s become. The person he is becoming. Occasionally the past will creep up on him, a wave of emotions that causes him to vacate present company and sit in his office to cry. It’s always accompanied by memories he is still trying hard to forget. Memories he will never forget. Luckily, as far as he knows, Tim, Sasha, and Martin had no idea. But his previous future does help him understand everything he has here and now. The more time he spends with the others, leaving the office and working on the small table in the kitchen area whenever he could, the more he treasures it. The joking with Tim, the banter with Sasha, the quiet moments with Martin. Last time he lived through this, he’d not known that these few months would become special, and as a result he’d remembered them with a rose-tinted, blurry fondness. In actuality, they are more real, more alive. He loves every moment of it.

About a month after Martin started living in the Archives, Tim invites Jon to one of the weekly Archival assistant drink nights. Drink nights had always been a small tradition among Tim, Martin, and Sasha, and something Jon had never been invited to. After all, it was, as Tim put it, ‘the evening where they all get drunk and complain about the boss.’ When asked initially, Jon had argued a little for appearance’s sake, until Sasha and Tim broke him. It wasn’t hard and honestly, Jon is happy to be invited. Plus, he also gets to drunkenly complain about Elias, which was a bonus. Part of him hopes that Elias was watching that, watching the Archiving Crew dissolve into giggles as a drunk Jon rambles on with an _exceptionally accurate_ impersonation of the man. He was continually invited each week after that, except for the one notable occasion when he’d given Tim homework on a date night.

The atmosphere of the Archives relaxes considerably after that, the months beginning to blend together for Jon as he watches the date carefully. He also slowly becomes used to working with a Martin that sees him as a friend and nothing more. Although Tim tries very hard throw a spanner in that nice little balance Jon has created. Knowing that Martin and Jon both like each other is enough for Tim to start playing wingman for the both of them, trying to set them up. He kept having ‘too much on’ and asking Martin to cover for him whenever he is supposed to help Jon organise sections of the Archives. Or he’d drag Sasha to lunch at the café around the corner, leaving Jon and Martin to sit and make small talk together. After every attempt, he’d come back, wink at Jon and then look very disappointed when it clearly didn’t work. Once he’d even tried to stall Sasha for the Archival drink evening, although luckily Martin had ended up not feeling well and bailing. Jon didn’t think he could have done it, sat and had drinks with Martin and treat it like two friends and not a date. Jon was not amused by that one, and he’d had a strong word with Tim after that incident. It didn’t stop Tim for very long, although he didn’t pull that stunt again.

As far as what Sasha thought of Tim’s hijinks, she didn’t say. Instead Jon spent days talking and laughing with her as they worked on statement follow-up together. Out of the three of them, Jon suspects that Sasha might have figured something out. Not that he was from the future, but something about him knowing more than he should. While he’s trying to keep his knowledge of the future and the Entities secret, there were still a few small things that slipped out. The way he’d jumped onto the fire extinguisher plan with instant enthusiasm, the small jokes he muttered when he didn’t realised she was listening, his occasional middle finger to the ceiling. Luckily, if she knew anything, she didn’t tell the others and didn’t approach Jon about it. He isn’t sure he could have kept the secret against a barrage that is a determined Sasha. Despite this, Jon finds that this possibility doesn't trouble him, or diminish any of the time he spends with Sasha.

What troubles him is Martin. Jon can’t tell exactly what it is, just that there is something to the way he’s acting. It is in the stares out of the corner of his eye when Jon enters a room, the quick closing of computer tabs and the shuffling of papers, the sudden silence if Jon comes out the office sometimes. It is the way that Jon would offer Martin a cup of tea and Martin would accept with a soft smile that doesn’t seem complete. He’ll still drink the tea, even if Jon never sees him do it, just the empty mugs on his desk. If his own experiences have taught him anything, Jon would say that Martin was mildly paranoid towards Jon. A paranoia that is slowly getting worse as the months progress. But for what reason Martin would have to fall into such a state, Jon can’t fathom. The only answer he has is that something else had happened during the worm siege due. Something that had caused this unintended and new consequence. Most likely this is the consequence of triggering it later than last time. All Jon can do though was watch and try to help in the little ways. He tries to be kind, to be friendly towards Martin. To make sure he is happy and comfortable. It seems to work, at least as far as Jon can tell.

There are a few other things that Jon notices. Strange things about the Magnus Institute beyond the normal feeling of being watched. Sometimes Jon will lock a door, only to find it unlocked the next morning, a draw slightly ajar, some statement work temporarily misplaced. It’s odd, a few small instances but each is noticeable in their own way. Is it an effect of Jon’s subtle changes, or is it something else? Other moving parts Jon is unaware of. He tries to account for them all, tries to keep watch on what was happening. But that was never his talent, and he’s not going to Elias about this.

By the time Jon reaches the statement of Andre Ramao, he doesn’t see the significance of it. It's just another true statement. Then he sees the spider walking along the shelf that houses the drywall into the tunnels, and he knows it’s time. Everything’s in place. Everything’s ready to go. Jon takes a deep breath, letting it slowly escape his lips, watching the spider carefully.

“Let’s do this,” he says under his breath to the spider.


	7. The Beginning of the End

“Jon, I heard a noise. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine Sasha. It’s going to be fine. Just a spider and I knocked the shelf off trying to kill it.”

“Well that’s alright then. Don’t tell Martin though.”

“Ha. Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Jon…? I thought this was an external wall. But it…”

“Looks like a drywall. I know. That’s because it is.”

“But why would anyone put a drywall down here?”

Jon slowly approaches the hole he’s made, tension and apprehension building. The tape recorder on the desk whirs loudly, recording every second. Behind him, Sasha smiles with a curiosity that Jon knows she’s wearing without even looking. The small dark crack stares at him, beckoning him further forward, beckoning him to start everything. Reaching a hand almost instinctively, he tears away at the crumbling drywall, letting it fall to the ground with a small puff of white powder. A small pink and muddy green worm falls to the floor with it. Jon doesn’t even give himself time to stare.

“Run,” he says looking at the worm, the sounds of a writhing mass in the tunnels wriggling towards the light becoming clearer. “SASHA RUN!”

Grabbing her hand, he drags her towards the door of the Office. Luckily, she seems to be getting over her brief shock quickly as she flings the door open. Behind them, the squelching waterfall of worms floods out of the larger hole that Jon has made, flowing over the desk and tape recorder. The tape recorder! Jon knows Martin has a spare in the sealed file room, but if he doesn’t drop it at the entrance to the main room then Tim won’t see it and all Jon’s work will be for nothing. Sasha would survive, but Tim would be eaten by the worms. Making an impulsive decision, Jon darts back into the room and reaches his hand into the warm, squidgy mass of bodies that have already formed on his desk, his fingers closing around the small, cold casing. He can feel them, a few worms digging into the back of his hand. They’re around his feet, sharp spikes of pain echoing up his leg. But he can’t scream, not yet. Gritting his teeth, he turns back to a Sasha who is still standing in the door and looking at him with disbelief. She doesn’t understand why Jon’s going for the tape recorder. A few worms have reached her ankles, unnoticed by her, disappearing into he boots. Behind her, he sees Martin holding a small pile of statements.

“Let’s go!” Jon calls, running out the room with the tape recorder.

Sasha follows a step behind, looking over her shoulder as she does so. Jon doesn’t need to. Doesn’t need to see if the red and holey dress, the mattered black hair, the holes are behind them all. Doesn’t need to see when Jane Prentiss comes for them. Luckily, Martin sees the explosion of worms and the desperate run of Jon and Sasha. Dropping the papers he’s carrying, he instinctively turns to run towards the pile of fire extinguishers by the desks.

“Leave it. There’s no time,” Jon shouts at him, grabbing Martin’s hand with his own free, non-worm hand and dragging him towards the door that leads to the Archive’s hermetic storage. The place where Martin’s been living for the last few months. It’s the safest place for them, for the short future anyway.

The door is only on the other side of the room and to the right a bit, just past the entrance to the corridor that heads to heart of the Archives. Still the sprint feels like eternity. As Jon runs, he can feel the worms digging into his fingers, burrowing into his flesh and weakening his grip on the tape recorder. He doesn’t fight it, letting it fall to the ground with a clatter. The sound echoes through the corrupted whispering of Jane Prentiss that Jon thinks he can hear coming from the Office. Although he’s not sure if it’s really her or the memory of her voice from the last time. The hollow, beautiful call of _Archivist_. Then, they were all through the door and into the cool air, the door slamming shut behind them. Sasha locks the door as Jon collapses onto the floor.

“It’s happening, isn’t it?” Martin asks, looking at the flow of worms crawling into the main office area. Jon knows he’s trying hard not to panic.

Sasha leans against the door, letting herself slide down it and onto the floor with a painful groan. The pain in Jon’s leg is increasing considerably now the adrenaline is beginning to wear off and he finds himself completely exhausted. He can almost feel them wriggling and worming their way into him. There isn’t time for Martin to recover and realise he needs to grab the corkscrew on his own.

“Martin. Corkscrew. Now.” Jon mutters painfully.

“Corkscrew?” Martin asks turning away from the door and noticing the spots of blood on both him and Sasha. “Oh. Right. Hang on.”

The worm extraction is as painful as Jon remembers it being last time. Luckily, there’s far less worms to deal with considering he did not make that second grab for the tape recorder. Instead it lies on the floor, waiting for Tim to find it. Through the small door window above him, he can see the ceiling of the main area of the Archives, but little else. He doesn’t know where Prentiss is, can’t hear her anymore through the soundproofed walls. He hopes she’s lurking in the Archives somewhere, destroying statements and not waiting for Tim. Sasha sits next to him, bloody corkscrew in hand and leaning against some shelves while Martin watches out the window. Jon lowers his trouser leg, suddenly wishing he’d left some first aid supplies in here in preperation. Luckily, these weren’t his best pair. Sasha places the corkscrew next to here and looks at Martin.

“Not that I’m complaining or anything,” she says. “But why do you have a corkscrew anyway? Drinking in the Archives.”

“What…” Martin turns and looks at her with confusion. “No, no. It’s for the worms.”

“The worms?” Sasha asks. “Like some form of a weapon?”

“Like this would be any good for that,” Martin gives a small smile. “It’s for pulling the worms out of people.”

Jon looks at the floor. He already knew this, already knew that Martin had both a corkscrew for the worms and a tape recorder stashed away in here. He thinks back last time that he asked something about it, asked him why he’d had the corkscrew. But now, it doesn’t feel right, so instead he keeps his mouth shut, trying to concentrate on the patterns in the wooden floor and ignoring the pain in his leg and hand. Beside him, he can feel Sasha staring at Martin.

“Look,” Martin continues. “I had a lot of time to think about when this happened alright. You all got to go home and I was stuck in this place and with everything going on I had to be prepared. I started carrying around a knife, then when I realised that they burrowed down, I stole a corkscrew from admin. It seemed like the better option compared to hacking into someone.”

It’s silent for a moment.

“Well Martin, thank you.” Jon says, looking up at him with a smile.

He’s eternally grateful that Martin still had that down here, otherwise both Jon and Sasha would have become worm fodder. In hindsight, he probably should have thrown one in his pocket, just to be on the safe side. But ever since this day last time, he’d always had a bit of an aversion towards the things, and the thought of one sitting in his pocket made him uneasy. Considering everything, it was probably a bit of an irrational feeling, but one that Jon had lived with for a few years.

“Why did you drag us in here Jon?” Sasha suddenly asks, looking towards Jon.

“The room’s climate controlled and it has a strong door,” he answers, leaning back against the shelving. “Even if Prentiss wants to get in then her worms will have to come in slowly through the sealed air vents. We’re safe here, for now. These files are considered far more important than we ever will be.”

He gives a small chuckle to that, the pain finally breaking its way through his flimsy mental barriers. Despite enjoying being human again, he can’t help but very briefly miss his previous supernatural healing abilities.

“Well that’s depressing,” Sasha smiles, trying to lighten the mood a little despite everything. “Anyway, that was quick thinking.”

“Thanks,” he responds. “I already had it set up to be worm proof for Martin, so I figured we’d be safest here for now. Anyway, I know this place down here better than most people think. There’s quite a few old secrets if you know where to look.”

“Such as?”

“Maybe later. It’s a bit of a long story.”

It’s not a story Jon wants to tell now, not with his leg hurting and Elias watching everything. He doesn’t want Elias to make good on the subtle threat that he’s been making since their conversation. A threat without words but in the small smiles he gives, the secrets he knows that will break Jon. Or break Sasha, Tim, and Martin, which would be even worse. So Jon’s toed the line until now, and he’ll keep toeing that line until this is over. Then they can all talk in the safety of the tunnels. Then Jon can explain everything

“We’re not going anywhere,” Sasha responds, waiting for a proper answer.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned this place having secrets. Perhaps that was another small mistake. Luckily at this moment, he moves his leg to stop the incoming surge of pins-and-needles, causing the pain in his leg flairs up. He gives an audible groan to a very unsympathetic Sasha. At least Martin has the sense to look a little concerned. Even then, the expression is muted, almost like a mask rather than a genuine worry.

“You have no-one to blame but yourself for that,” Sasha says with a head tilt while raising her eyebrows. She pauses for a moment, then continues. “Considering you’re not going to tell us exactly how spooky this place is, you can answer this for me instead. Why did you go for the tape recorder? You used to hate the thing.”

“Tape recorder?” Martin asks in confusion. It takes Jon a moment to remember that Martin wasn’t there when he’d made his initial grab for it, the one that resulted in the numerous worm bites and was the only thing that Jon could think of that would delay Tim long enough to not get eaten.

“It’s…” Jon begins, trailing off into silence.

How could he explain it without sounding crazy or prophetic? How can he say he needs it to delay Tim long enough to stop him becoming worm food? He can’t even say it’s an instinctual reaction. He’s not cared about carrying one for a long time, since they always seem to turn up whenever they’re needed. He wouldn’t even be surprised if there currently is one hidden away in the boxes right now, listening and recording everything. He still didn’t know what else is listening to them, what force is behind them. Listening hard enough, Jon can almost hear its familiar whirring sound, but whether it’s real or a trick of the mind, he doesn’t care to find out.

“Complicated? A long story?” Sasha says, punctuating each sentence carefully with almost annoyance.

Jon doesn’t blame her. Despite being cagey to protect them all for now, his answers must have become exceedingly annoying and frustrating. Sasha knows he’s deflecting, and Jon can’t even explain it’s for her protection without explaining who he’s protecting her from. Which means she’s not going to drop this line of questioning. He can’t dodge her questions forever, not without raising a considerable amount of suspicion. Well, more suspicion anyway.

“Not really,” Jon responds, giving it a moment’s thought before settling on an answer he’s happy with. It’s not a lie, but it’s not the main reason either. “It’s just that I want whichever poor idiot that gets this job next to know exactly what they’re getting into. I want them to know that there is more going on with this place than they realise, and I want them to understand what being the Archivist actually means. I don’t really care if I disappear, I just don’t want anyone making the same mistakes I did.”

Martin turns and looks out the window again, peering into the room so Jon can only see the hint of his face in the reflection. Sasha still stares at Jon, although her expression is slowly morphing from one of confusion to comfort, not realising that Jon’s speaking of his future actions rather than his past ones.

“Mistakes?” She asks. “Jon, I don’t see how you could have done anything differently. Except the tape recorder of course.”

The last part is lighter, a little bit of humour in an otherwise serious conversation. Even with death waiting for them on the other side of the door, Sasha still makes the little quips that would send Tim into giggles if he were here. Looking at Jon, she moves to sit next to him and places a hand comfortingly on his shoulder.

“It’s not just this Sasha,” he responds, picking his words carefully. The deserve to know something in case anything happens to him, even if it’s only enough to start piecing everything together. “It’s everything about this place. Even without the walking worm-bag that’s somewhere outside this room, you can’t deny that there’s something going on. All those real statements that point to something much scarier than this.”

“Real statements?” Martin suddenly says, looking back at Jon with a strange expression that Jon can’t quite place.

“The ones that only record on tape,” he explains. “They’re all real. They’ve always been real.”

“Hold on,” Martin says, shaking his head and looking at Jon with disbelief. “I’ve heard you with those statements and their follow-up. You tear them to shreds like it’s wasting your time. You keep coming up with all these _rational_ alternatives that make no sense at all and you can’t accept that the things in the statements might be real. You’re saying that you actually believe them?”

His voice is rising, not believing anything that Jon’s said. Jon doesn’t blame him. He’s played the part of the sceptic for a few months now, playing it up whenever he comes across something real for the benefit of keeping the illusion. Jon turns to look at the floor, not liking the strange look of betrayal in Martin’s eyes.

“I’ve always believed, Martin,” Jon sighs. “The ones on the tapes anyway, the rest are all fake.”

“How can you know that?” Martin asks.

“It’s…” Jon begins, trailing off as he’s unsure how to finish that sentence.

“Let me guess. Complicated?”

Martin’s voice is dripping with flat annoyance. Jon doesn’t need to look up to know that Martin’s not impressed with his answer, with his continual reliance on the phrase ‘it’s complicated’. It might be the truth, but it’s not a satisfying answer. Jon wishes he could explain, could sit them down and tell them everything. But with Elias watching, and his threat still very real, combined with everything that is happening right now, there isn’t the time. If only this interrogation had happened earlier. Or after the Jane Prentiss attack has been completed. But for now, complicated is the only answer Jon can give.

“Exactly,” Jon agrees.

“So…” Martin continues expectantly, creating and enhancing a strange mood that was beginning to form between the two of them.

It wasn’t something that Jon could see, but rather sense. A tension to the air, a combination of suspicion and frustration weaving its way between them. Sasha, Prentiss, the constant gaze of the Beholding all seems to fade away, caught up in the swirls in the air and disappearing into oblivion. All that matters is Martin. All Jon senses is Martin watching him, his gaze more piercing than any Eye.

“So what?” Jon asks cautiously.

“What are the statements all pointing to then, Jon?” Martin asks, staring intently at him. “That much scarier thing you mentioned. What is it?”

If he wasn’t getting an answer about the real statements, he’s getting an answer about this. That much is clear. Jon pauses, unsure how to answer that. Unsure how to answer it in a way that won’t send Elias down into the Archives with the cold, smug assurance that he will not be defied. He can’t mention the Entities, Elias, Gertrude, the Archivist, or the Institute. But perhaps he could give them a start, a place to begin looking. Elias can’t blame or punish any of them if they discover the truth for themselves, can he?

“You already know? Don’t you,” Sasha suddenly says, interrupting Jon’s train of thought.

With her words, the strange mood in the room breaks and Jon remembers that he’s not alone anymore. Remembers that it’s not just the two of them here.

“I have a pretty good idea,” he says, looking up from his knees to Sasha with a small nod.

He doesn’t know why, but he gives a small chuckle to himself with that. Maybe it’s the fear, maybe it’s because they could all die in a few moments, maybe it’s because Jon knows exactly what is going on. He doesn’t just have a pretty good idea, he knows exactly what the game they’re all tangled up in is leading to, the rules and the truth to this world hidden in the statements. Both Sasha and Martin stare like he’s insane, both seeming to understand though the subtle meaning behind his words. They know he’s not guessing at the truth; they know he’s hiding something.

“Which is?” Sasha prompts, wanting Jon to continue.

In that moment, Jon makes an impulsive decision. They need to know. Elias and his punishments can be dammed to the fear scape for all Jon could care, he can’t let the three of them run blindly through the dark. Not again. They need to know the truth about their situation once they’re out of this current attack. For the first time in months, Jon feels a weight lifting up in his chest.

“I’ll tell you afterwards,” he promises, meaning it. “Right now, my main priority is making sure you two and Tim are safe from Prentiss.”

“Oh Gods. Tim!” Sasha jumps. “He doesn’t know.”

Whatever calm and peaceful mood that was in the room and Jon’s mind is shattered in an instant as Sasha jumps up and runs towards the window, ignoring her injuries. Tim didn’t know about Prentiss and her worms, and while Jon knew that this all turned out alright last time, it doesn’t stop the apprehension and the dread building. Right now, Tim’s in more danger than he has been since he lost his brother, since he will walk into the House of Wax.

“He was out at lunch I think,” Martin panics, moving to the side and letting Sasha view out the window.

“Quick. Anyone have a phone?” She asks, looking rapidly between both Jon and Martin. “We need to warn him not to come back to the Archives.”

“There’s no signal down here,” Jon says, still on the floor. He’s trying to be calm, trying to remind himself that Tim was safe last time. It doesn’t quite work, the fear creeping into his voice. “We just have to hope that he…”

“He what, Jon?” Sasha interrupts again, face pressed against the window in desperation.

“Hears a noise, sees something,” Jon say, the panic in the room doing nothing to help him. “I don’t know.”

Jon knows he doesn’t, knows he walks into that room and picks up the tape recorder Jon dropped. Martin joins Sasha, face staring out into the room, searching for any sign of movement in the Archives that isn’t from Jane Prentiss. The panic holds, the silence between them deafening as no-one wants to break it, no-one wants to be a distraction.

“There he is!” Martin shouts, startling Jon. “There. There. There. I see him.”

He’s pointing at something Jon can’t see. Knowing what’s coming, Jon begins to pull himself to standing, using the shelving behind him as support. The movement causes the pain in his leg to flare up again, threatening to send him clattering back down to the floor. Jon doesn’t let it, slowly and deliberately pulling himself up, unnoticed by waving Tim and Sasha.

“TIM! TIM LOOK OUT!” Sasha screams, trying to attract his attention.

“It’s soundproofed, he can’t hear us,” Jon says, taking a few deep breaths in response to the pain.

Sasha shoots him a withering stare, before turning back to continually shout Tim’s name.

“What’s he doing?” She calls out to no-one in particular. “Tim. Run. Just leave it and run.”

Jon knows that means Tim has just picked up the tape recorder, means he knows it’s almost time. He hobbles his way next to Sasha and puts a hand on her shoulder. Out the window, he can see Tim holding the tape recorder with a joking smile, making his own little fake recording. Behind him, Prentis moves slowly, her tattered red dress and matted black hair writhing with holes and worms. Jon can’t see her face, only her inevitable goal and the shadows of her worms behind her.

“No. No. No. No, no, no, no,” Martin mutters, watching what he thinks will be the death of his friend.

“Oh god,” Sasha gasps. “There she is. She’s going for him… Screw this.”

Sasha hand falls on the door as she looks at Jon. She’s not asking for permission; she’s going out there to save Tim. Still, Jon steps back with a small nod.

“Sasha. Stay together,” Jon says, voice low and flat and begging. “Please.”

He takes in what could easily be his last moment with her, her determination, her bravery, her recklessness. The way she smiles and laughs and tells Tim off for a particularly bad joke. The quiet mornings after rambunctious drinks nights, enjoying coffees with too much cream and sugar together. The slight and friendly teasing when she discovered Jon’s collage band and had lorded it over him for a full month as blackmail. The sarcasm, the banter, the strange and random conversations. He sees all that, sees the months of their friendship spanning before them in an instant. The years that it could be. Jon doesn’t want to lose her. Not again.

Then she’s gone.


	8. Martin and Jon

“Tim. LOOK OUT! Behind you…”

Sasha’s voice echoes out around the Archives before the door slams shut. Leaning against the window for support, Jon watches Sasha nearly tackle Tim as he looks at her in surprise. Jane Prentiss swarms forward in a rising surge of worms, determined to claim her prize. Jon watches as Tim yelps silently and runs into the office, not knowing that that is where the worms originated, where the breach is. Sasha hesitates for a moment, seeing a clear path out of the Archives stretching before her. An escape route. Jon can see her mind working, her desire to run and get help battling with Jon’s final plea and he danger to Tim. Making up her mind, she darts after Tim and into the office. Jane Prentiss stops moving towards the pair, letting the worms chase them, and instead turns to face Jon. Her decaying and writhing face resting in a serene smile of victory behind the matted black hair.

Beside him, Martin starts breathing heavily, trying hard not to panic. He’s almost leaning into Jon as he stares out the window, searching for some sign, any sign that Tim and Sasha are alive. He hopes they are. But Jon can’t see into the Office, can’t hear the screams that would indicate the death of the worms. Or indicate the death of Tim and Sasha. Jon had found some of the stashes of CO2 that Martin had hidden away in the boxes, adding to them by placing a few more in strategic locations. By his estimate, in the huge piles of boxes stashed around that room, at least half housed gas canisters. Better to be safe.

“They’ll be okay Martin. They’ll be okay,” Jon says, partly to Martin and partly to himself, still looking out the window.

“Tim ran into the office and Sasha followed him,” Martin mutters, unaware that Jon has said anything. “That’s where the worms came from. They’re dead. They’re both dead. They’re both dead and gone and being eaten as we speak.”

“Martin,” Jon says, turning away from the window to face him and placing his hand reassuringly on Martin’s shoulder. “Tim and Sasha will both be fine.”

He looks deep into Martin’s eyes, trying to be calm and comforting. Trying to reassure Martin that they’ll be fine, without giving away how worried Jon actually is.

“Take your hand off me!” Martin yells suddenly at Jon as he jumps backwards, away from the window and Jon as if he has just been burned.

“Martin?” Jon asks, confused at Martin’s reaction.

This isn’t right. This didn’t happen last time. Last time Martin and Jon spoke about Jon’s feigned scepticism before Jon accused Martin of being a ghost to hilarious results in hindsight. But even when Martin was yelling at him back then, it was with exasperated disbelief. This was different. This Martin is staring at him with an unsettling combination of suspicion and fear.

“Back off Jon,” he says slowly, not breaking eye contact with Jon. “Just back off.”

Martin takes a few steps backwards, away from the door and away from Jon. Jon can almost see the fight-or-flight response triggering in Martin’s eyes as they dart between him and the door he’s standing in front of. As Martin weights up if he should run, brave Prentiss instead of being in here with Jon. Shock runs through Jon as he just stands there, unsure how to react for the first time since he returned to the past. Jon knows Martin well enough to know that he’s scared, that he’s scared of Jon.

“Alright. Alright,” Jon says after a moment, raising his hands non-threateningly. “Martin?”

Martin’s name is filled with questions and confusion. He doesn’t understand. Why is Martin acting this way towards him? Jon might have made some strange decisions and had a bit of a personality change, but nothing that should have warranted this. He wants to run over and hold him, to reassure Martin that he’s completely safe. To reassure him that whatever image he currently has of Jon is completely false. But Jon also knows that that would make the whole situation worse. So instead he takes a few careful steps backwards and away from the door, the pain in his leg causing him to stumble a little bit. Leaning against another dusty shelf for support, he looks towards Martin, searching for a reason, an answer.

“Just stay over there, okay,” Martin says, not taking his eyes off Jon. From the looks of it, he’s staying in here. For now, anyway.

“I will… But please, what’s this about?” Jon softly asks again. “Martin?”

Martin doesn’t respond, just continues to watch Jon like a wounded animal watches a hunter. A wounded animal that’s not going down without a fight. It’s similar to the way Martin’s watched Jon these past few months, the expression caught in the smallest of glimpses, only before it was laced with suspicion. A suspicion that Jon could brush off as Martin noticing that Jon accidentally acted out of character. Now it’s been replaced with an expression of fear. And that’s the moment that Jon realises that he’s screwed up, again. By knowing what’s coming, knowing what’s going on, knowing he can trust his friends, there’s no decent into paranoia. Instead, it’s Martin. Martin who looked at Jon and saw something was wrong and grew suspicious. Martin, who watched Jon out of the corner of his eye. Jon remembers the unlocked doors, the ajar drawers, the missing statements. That was all Martin, trying to figure out the truth. He’d had all this time to himself in the Institute, and still Jon hadn’t suspected it was him.

He almost wants to laugh at the irony of everything. The whole situation that they are now in comes crashing down around him as he just stands there. There’s nothing he can think of saying. Nothing he can do that doesn’t make Martin more suspicious. Or make Jon look crazy. He doesn’t even know what Martin knows, what leaps and assumptions he’s made about Jon. Is he just suspicious of Jon’s actions, or does he think Jon’s done something irredeemable? Without knowing anything, the next thing Jon could say might make it better or worse depending on everything. Anyway, what could he say? Instead Jon leans against his shelf, waiting for Martin to talk first, to answer the questions Jon’s silently asking him. Or even just give him any indication on how far down the rabbit hole Martin’s gone.

“What do you want with me, Jon?” Martin eventually asks after an eternity of silence has passed.

“I’m sorry?” Jon asks, startled by the question. This wasn’t what he was expecting.

He was expecting something, a tirade of suspicion, an accusation about nothing. Not this. Not an attack against himself and his own motives towards Martin. He doesn’t even know anymore if Martin noticed his kindness and concern over the last few months. He doesn’t know what to say, how to respond.

“I said, what do you want with me?” He repeats, each word punctuated with a rising anger. A vicious fear lashing out at its target. Jon would be lying if he said that it didn’t hurt, that his tone didn’t cut deep within Jon’s heart.

“I… I… I want you to be okay,” Jon stammers. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“How about the truth,” Martin responds, voice rising. “Who are you really? You’re not Jonathan Sims.”

His own name is thrown in his face like an insult. All the pain, the confusion, the suspicion condensed into two simple little words. It’s not just the pain of a betrayal, it runs deeper than that, which Jon knows is courtesy of Martin’s crush on him.

“Martin, it’s me. It’s Jon.”

He’s pleading, begging Martin to see it’s him. It’s Jon. But from Martin’s perspective, there’s not the same history between the two of them. There’s no Lonely, no Scotland, no Buried. No stops under the all-seeing Eye of the apocalypse. No quiet tea mornings, good cows, lazy afternoons in a blanket pile. No little tape recorders and final messages. There’s no waiting, falling in love with someone only to realise that by the time it’s mutual you’re both being pulled in separate directions. Martin’s Jon’s anchor, his final link to the world. He’s the reason Jon never gave up until Martin was gone and lost forever. He’s Jon’s heart. His humanity. But to Martin, Jon is just a slight asshole of a boss who he’s got a crush on, someone who’s been acting odd for the last few months. Someone who’s been watching him for the last few months like a stalker.

Unsurprisingly, Martin laughs at Jon’s plea. It’s a desperate, disbelieving sound that’s completely out of place in the still air between them, despite there being no humour to its tone.

“You really expect me to believe that?” he states in disbelief. “You might have fooled Sasha and Tim, but whatever trick you’re playing won’t work on me.”

“Martin, I don’t know why you started thinking this, but it’s me,” Jon pleads again.

“Then why do you have a tape with all our descriptions on it then?” Martin spits back.

“What?”

The question throws Jon completely off balance. Aside from the occasional locking the tape in his drawer, Jon had mainly kept it on his person. This wasn’t something he wanted anyone to find, or something he wanted to lose. He’d never left in in his apartment though, as he kept bringing it out to listen to at least once a week when the weight of the future felt heavy. Despite the Table having been destroyed months ago, Jon still occasionally worries that it’s still out there, still stalking the tunnels, waiting for a victim. Sometimes he just wanted to be certain they were all the same people.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know anything about it,” Martin continues, voice rising. “I found the tape in your drawer and I listened to it. I even watched you listen to it on several occasions. That’s not something you keep, not something you should have ever made unless you have some ulterior motive to replace us or something like that.”

“That’s…” Jon stammers. “That’s not what that’s for.”

“Oh really.”

“Yes really. It’s for…” Jon thinks for a moment, choosing how to answer carefully. He makes up his mind. “If something ever happened to one of you guys.”

He can’t tell Martin the truth now, not with Martin doubting is he is even the same person. Mentioning there are creatures out there that are able to assume someone’s life by replacing them might answer the purpose of the tape, but would probably turn Martin completely against him. It would make Martin think that Jon has been replaced. Jon wishes that he’d added his own description to a tape, along with a proper explanation of what’s actually going on. Or even just taken a polaroid of the group. He’d meant to, but he hadn’t gotten round to it yet and now it is too late.

“Something like this?” Martin exclaims, gesturing towards the window.

Jon doesn’t need to look to know that Jane Prentiss is rummaging through the boxes, destroying them with her Corruption in an attempt to weaken the power of the Eye in this place. In a way it was, an attack on the Magnus Archives by one of the Avatars of an Entity. But the Corruption was never the Entity that the tape was created to counteract, but rather to warn Jon if the Not!Them had infiltrated the Magnus Institute. Had replaced someone he cared about.

“Yes… No… Not exactly,” Jon responds trying unsuccessfully to keep his voice steady.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean Jon?” Martin shouts at Jon, his voice almost echoing in the strangely silent room. “If something happens to us? Is that supposed to fill me with some sort of confidence, some trust in you? And what about that other tape, the one with your conversation with the creature Sasha met, a conversation you never bothered to mention to us. You talked like you knew it well enough, and yet from what Sasha told me he was clearly some sort of monster. A creature who is apparently a former Archival Assistant and who is supposed to be dead.”

Martin’s rage at Jon is deserved. Jon’s not been forthcoming on the answers that he knows can maybe clear everything up. Perhaps it’s because those answers could make everything worse, could make Jon lose Martin. Except that he’s already losing Martin. He wants to tell Martin the truth now, a truth that is battering around inside him like a wild beast trying to be free, but there’s no time. No chance. Not with Tim and maybe Sasha hopefully on their way to burst down the drywall. All Jon would succeed in doing is turning Martin against him, and Martin might turn the others against Jon also. For better or for worse, Jon’s stuck in this path, however bad it is for him. He doesn’t know what to do anymore.

All he knows is that it hurts, seeing Martin stare at him like a stranger, a danger to Martin. And if Martin’s listened to that other tape, Jon doesn’t blame him for this reaction. Jon having a mysterious conversation with a creature he’s supposed to have never met before, if he’d run into something like this during the height of his paranoia, he’d have the same reaction. He runs his face through his hands for a moment, thinking of a response.

“I can’t explain that right now Martin,” Jon tries to explain. “Please just trust me on this?”

He’s got nothing to offer Martin, nothing to clear it up that won’t make Martin fear him more.

“Trust you?” Martin shouts, incredulous, and Jon knows that what he said was the wrong answer. “Trust you? Jon, I don’t know what your plan has to do with me, but I won’t go down easily.”

“Martin? What are…” Jon begins to speak, confused.

He doesn’t know what Martin means. He doesn’t know what Martin wants from him. But if Martin thinks that Jon has some plan that involves Martin, then his reactions of a caged animal would make sense. Trapped in a room with a person you think wants to harm you. It breaks Jon’s heart to think that Martin could think of him any other way than a friend. The words on his lips blank and stutter as Jon’s unable to think of the right thing to say. How can he?

“Just SHUT UP JON! JUST STOP TALKING AND STOP DEFLECTING EVERYTHING,” Martin yells, all the anger and fear rising into a single interrupting tirade.

Every single suspicious thing Jon has said or done clearly drawing its own conclusions in Martin’s mind. Jon’s a danger. Jon’s a threat. Jon wants me dead. Jon’s an imposter. Jon can see it all and more, written in the lines of Martin’s expression.

“You have a tape with all our descriptions on it,” Martin continues. “You had a conversation with a creature. A creature who you claim is apparently Michael Shelly and who _knew_ something significant about you. Knew you opened a door to somewhere. That you’ve done something. Something that you didn’t tell us about and clearly didn’t want us to know about. Did you bring something into this world or did you just murder and replace Jon? Why else would you stop the tape and hide it in your drawer with that other statement and those tapes?

“And yes, I listened to all the tapes. It wasn’t that hard to put them together when you thought about it, to figure out what was going on. I knew something was wrong, something had changed about you, and you knew that Jane Prentiss would chase anyone who you sent after her. So you asked me to investigate that statement. You wanted her to follow me into my apartment and kill me. Make the only complication in your life disappear. And don’t look at me like that Jon, don’t pretend that you don’t have some plan for me.

“You’ve been acting strange these last few months and I know you’ve been watching me. Pretending to be all nice and making tea for me. Trying to poison or drug me; or was that an attempt to make me less suspicious about your plan. So I wouldn’t notice that you’d been snooping around my personal possessions. How else would you have known about the corkscrew? I never told anyone about that. Why would I? And Tim and Sasha were no help. Sasha would look thoughtful and say she needed more time to figure it out, while Tim would always laugh and smile. You fooled them, I’ll give you that. But not me. Never me.

“What are you doing Jon? What’s your plan here? Get us all eaten by worms or something worse. Well, you’ve got me alone. What now?”

Jon stands there for a moment, just trying to figure everything Martin’s said out. Just trying to figure something out. The tirade of words rests in the air between them down, lingering in anger and fear. When you look at it that way, it’s a pretty damming case against Jon. He’s almost wishing he’d noticed sooner, noticed that Martin had fallen down his paranoia spiral and done something, anything, to help him. Instead he’s here, with Martin’s treating him like the enemy. He should have seen it, should have noticed. Even mentioning the corkscrew earlier only further dammed his case, even if it did save Sasha and his lives.

“You have it all wrong…” He tries again to explain, only to be cut off by Martin.

“THEN EXPLAIN IT! Prove it! WHAT DO YOU WANT?

“It’s…” The words dying on his lips. He’s trying to keep his voice steady, trying to keep calm, trying not to yell back. But what was there to yell? Jon continues to have nothing he can think of saying.

“WHY HAVE YOU BEEN WATCHING ME?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU.” Jon wants to yell back, wants to scream that answer in Martin’s face.

He wants Martin to understand that everything he’s done has been out of kindness for Martin. Out of love. He wants him to understand that these last months have been painful for Jon, not being able to hold Martin close and fall into that smile. He wants him to understand that he’s back in the past because he can’t lose the people he cares about again, and if he can act like less of a jerk in the meantime, then it’s a win-win situation. It’s the heart of the truth, and something Jon can't say. One day he will, in the eddies and the fog and the Loneliness. But not today.

“…what…”

The small tone startles Jon for a moment, completely disconnected from their previous conversation. This isn’t a yell, it’s a shallow whisper, the word falling from Martin’s mouth to clatter on the floor. Martin stares, mouth slightly agape, looking at Jon in shocked disbelief. For the first time in what feels like eternity, Martin’s got nothing to say, any words being swallowed up by the shock on his face. But why? Why would Martin suddenly act like this? Go from a fearful, raging accusation to utter silence.

Then Jon realises why.

“Good Lord, that was out loud,” he mutters to himself in embarrassment.

That wasn’t supposed to come out, that wasn’t supposed to happen. The panic in the moment, the breaking of his heart, every Eye watching him just caused him to talk without thinking. Again. To declare his love for Martin not in some tender romantic Lonely moment, but rather in a locked room and almost about to be eaten by worms. Although, maybe it was always due to the Lonely, as Jon briefly notices a few wisps of a familiar fog in the corner of the room. Courtesy of Jon feeling alone and helpless, or Martin feeling like he’s lost everything again.

Jon slumps to the ground, letting his aching leg lay flat with a gentle, internal sigh of relief. A strange mood holds the rooms, weaving between them in the silence. He looks at the floor, thinking deeply for a few moments. Luckily, Martin gives him the time he needs as his mind processes Jon's confession.

“Look Martin,” Jon says quietly, the sudden shift in tone so dramatic compared to a few moments ago. “I won’t deny that there is something else going on with me. You’re right, something has been going on for the last few months that involves me. But it’s a complicated and a very long story that you might not believe but I promise to tell you all when we escape this. I just need time to properly explain it though, something we don’t have too much of right now. There’s a very good reason that I have those tapes, one that doesn’t involve murder. Believe me, I wish it were as easy to deal with as a simple murder case. And yes, I suspected Prentiss would go after whoever I sent to investigate, so I sent you because I knew you’d survive.”

It’s a pathetic answer, just like all his others. But it’s all he’s got. All he can give until the attack is over and Jon can explain it all properly. He takes a few shaky breaths, still staring at the floor, trying to figure out what to say next. How does he explain Prentiss? Or anything else for that matter? He owes Martin some explanation about his feelings though, he just doesn’t know what to say.

“Knew I’d survive?”

The gentle tone to Martin’s voice matches that of Jon’s. There’s still a question to it, a shattered broken element as the pieces of Martin’s carefully constructed assumption shatter around him, but it’s something better than Jon was expecting. Martin’s still processing everything. Nether-the-less, Jon latches onto Martin’s question, using it to keep talking, hoping at some moment that the words finally make sense in his head. He also knows that unless he can clear up the mess he’s caused by keeping those statements, he’ll lose Martin.

“It’s to do with what’s going on,” he says. “I was really hoping that I didn’t have to send anyone. Especially you. But I didn’t have a choice, someone had to investigate to… redirect Prentiss. Despite everything, every choice I’ve made apart from one has had some massive consequence to it. I knew that the next person who went to Carlos Vittery’s house would be attacked by Prentiss. So, I didn’t send you to investigate because I care about you, and because of that I got two people killed. I wish I could change the past, but some things have to happen, even if I don’t want them to. Even if they’re to someone I care about.”

Jon looks at Martin as he says that last line. He might never be able to put his feelings properly into words, but perhaps Martin could see it. Perhaps Martin might see it and realise just how much he means to Jon. It’s a foolish but hopeful wish. Martin looks down at him, still to stunned to do anything while Jon confesses as much as he can. Maintaining eye contact, he keeps talking.

“That’s why I’ve been watching you, been making you tea, been trying to make sure you’re alright after everything that happened. It’s because everything that’s happening is my fault. It’s because I’m in love with you. It’s because I’ve been in love with you for a while. And I know I acted like a jerk to you when you first came here and I’m sorry for everything I said. I’m sorry for everything that I’ve put you through. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you Martin. I will never hurt you. That’s the truth.”

Martin stares at him, the silence between them low and warm. There’s a slight awkwardness to the air, one that’s completely natural given everything that’s just happened in the last minute. Jon still looks at Martin, waiting for him to respond, to say something. After all, there’s nothing more Jon has to say, not without sounding crazy.

“I… um…” Martin stutters, lost for words and still processing everything.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jon quickly speaks up, not wanting Martin to feel pressured by any of this. “I get it if you don’t…”

Martin interrupts Jon with a laugh. Unlike the last times, it’s a laugh of relief and insanity, without hints of fear or desperation. It’s a laugh of someone whose entire world has crashed and burned and yet they’ve still found some small remnant in the rubble.

“That’s the funny thing Jon,” he says between the laughter. “None of this makes any sense and yet I want to believe you. I want to believe that you’re telling the truth, but I don’t know if I should.”

For the first time since the attack, there’s the smallest hint of a genuine smile on his face. Jon lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I don’t know what else I can say to convince you that I am,” Jon responds, casting his gaze back down to the floor.

There’s a small shuffle of movement, and before Jon realises it, Martin’s joined him on the floor. He’s sitting next to Jon, looking out across the bottom shelving of this section of the Archives. Jon’s heart soars. If Martin’s sitting here, then it means that at least Jon has some small chance of convincing Martin he’s not threat. It means there is a small chance that Martin believes him. Jon desperately wants to lean against Martin, wrap his arm around Martin’s shoulder and collapse into the warmth of his chest. But the last few months have taught him enough self-control to not do that.

“When we get out of here, you will explain everything,” Martin says after a few moments of warm silence, still not looking at Jon.

“I will,” Jon nods. “I owe you that much.”

“Until then, I guess I’ll have to trust what my heart is telling me.”

“And that is?”

Martin turns to face Jon, smiling with a beam that Jon hasn’t seen since he got back. The smile of a cool Scotland day with Martin and Jon curled together under a blanket, drinking tea. It’s the smile of a final sunset, the summer sun, the glint of hope. It’s beautiful, and something Jon’s missed ever since he lost Martin. He yearns to see that smile every day, to get lost in it.

“To believe you.”

Martin leans deliberately towards Jon, and Jon knows what it means. There’s the briefest moment of panic, as this wasn’t supposed to happen yet. But Jon finds that he doesn’t care. He’s missed Martin, missed having Martin being a more significant part of his life. He doesn’t want to keep yearning, keep watching because Reality might have some ideas about when his relationship with Martin should start.

Jon smiles, and kisses Martin deeply.


	9. Flight Through the Tunnels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Worms

The kiss suspends time for Jon, the threat of everything fades away as he collapses into Martin. Instead he’s falling back into memories of every kiss beforehand; the Lonely, the train ride, Scotland, the Apocalypse. They’re all good memories. He can’t say how long it lasts, only that it seems like eternity before they eventually let each other go. Martin smiles at Jon, blushing slightly. A stray strand of hair falls from Jon’s ponytail, allowing him to push it behind his ear like a schoolgirl with a crush. Without warning, laughter bubbles up within Jon, threatening to explode and ruin this tender moment. He tries to hold it back, until he sees Martin struggling with the same emotions.

That’s all he needs to lose it. He’s laughing with joy, with hope, with love, with the whole situation finally settling into reality. Martin laughs with him, more likely because he misinterpreted Jon’s crush as murderous intent. Jon can’t blame him, having done the exact same thing a few years ago. Eventually, they both quieten down as Jon leans into Martin’s shoulder. It’s warm.

“Am I allowed to ask how long you’ve had a crush on me?” Martin asks Jon suddenly with a gentle smile.

Jon gives a small laugh. Years, he wants to say. But this Jon hasn’t known Martin for years and while the time travel thing will definitely need to be explained soon, he’s not opening that can of worms now. Not with actual worms wanting them dead. He gives a pause before responding.

“I realised it months ago,” Jon says. “But honestly I don’t know when it developed.”

It’s technically the truth, one which could be interpreted as the day Jon first offered Martin a cup of tea. Or could mean the actual truth which was several months ago and a long time from now. Anyway, Jon had never been able to pin down the exact point he started to develop feelings, until he’d tripped over them and realised he’d fallen for Martin. Hard.

“For me it was when I first met you while looking for that dog,” Martin says.

“Really?” Jon responds. “But I was awful to you.”

“I know, I’m hopeless,” Martin says with a small chuckle that Jon has to join in with. They’re both pretty hopeless. “Tim and Sasha have made that very clear.”

‘And Melanie, and Basira, and Georgie, and Daisy.’ Jon thinks to himself. They all made it pretty clear that’s Jon’s hopeless at one point or another. But Martin doesn’t know them or how important they’ll all be to Jon, even if some of them have complicated emotions about him. So he keeps quiet. The pair sit in silence together for a little, Jon running his hand through Martin’s brown, curly hair in the way he knows he likes, gaining a small smile.

“You know Tim found out about my feelings,” Jon eventually says, breaking the silence. “That’s why he was acting all weird.”

Martin laughs at that.

“I wondered why he kept trying to get us alone together?”

“I nearly killed him after Drinks Night.”

“Ha,” he exclaims. “You know… Jon! What’s that?”

A cracking sound erupts from the corner of the room that Jon knows is another drywall. Another way into the tunnels. A rhythmic noise. Bang, bang, bang. To Jon it sounds like someone trying to break their way through a wall, a familiar sound if his memory is correct. The sound of Tim and maybe Sasha. A small well of hope and fear well up in his heart, not knowing how those two fared. Hearing the sound, Martin jumps and stands defensively in front of Jon, watching the wall with a tense fear. It’s not hard to figure out he has a different opinion. A different idea about who, or what, is trying to break through and into the room. Worms. Despite everything, Jon can’t take the chance and hope he’s right about his guess.

“Martin,” Jon says quickly, still sitting on the floor. “Grab a fire extinguisher just in case. But I think it’s Tim and Sasha.”

“What?”

Martin turns back to face Jon with a surprised but incredulous doubt. Another case of Jon knowing something that he probably shouldn’t know. Whoops. And Jon thought that he was getting better at not accidently revealing the future. But then again, its not like it will matter for much longer, so a few slip ups will not have any consequence.

“If it’s Prentiss then we would have heard her voice by now,” Jon offers as an explanation. “I think it’s Tim and Sasha.”

“Another one of your I’ll explain later things?” Martin asks, seeing right through Jon’s subtle attempt at twisting the truth.

“Sort of,” he says. “Just be ready in case I’m wrong.”

Jon hopes he’s not wrong. If he is, then he’ll suffer the embarrassment of a completely incorrect guess, before being devoured by Jane Prentiss and the Corruption. Martin nods, and quickly darts around the corner and into the stacks of paper. There’s a clatter, something falling off a table, and moments later he returns, fire extinguisher in his hands and the nozzle pointed towards the sound. He looks at Jon and nods, ready for whatever comes through the wall. Jon watches intently, reaching up a hand to grab Martin’s. It’s slightly awkward but neither of them care, each one holding onto the warmth and security of the other.

Bang.

Bang.

Crack.

A dent appears in the wall. There’s another bang, a pink fist bursting through into the room. Martin readies the fire extinguisher, fingers moments away from pulling the trigger. Crash. The wall collapses into large chunks, revealing a humanoid figure standing silhouetted in the white dust.

“Hi Martin. Hi Jon. Lots of worms out there I see,” Tim says with a smile and a cough.

He’s covered in dust and sweat, his red face shining in the artificial light. In his hand dangles another fire extinguisher. There’s drywall dust in his hair and a thin line of blood running down the side of his face. He’s also smiling like a maniac suffering from oxygen deprivation, most likely because he is. But aside from that, he looks physically fine, no scars or blood that would indicate a worm bite.

“Tim! You made it… how?” Martin stammers out, staring at him. He lets go of Jon’s hand and Jon lets it fall to the ground.

“What about Sasha?” Jon interrupts quickly, worry rising inside him.

Sasha followed Tim into the office, Sasha would have faced the worms with him. So, where was she? Is she with Tim or had was she lost in the tunnels? Is she alive or has she been eaten by worms? There’s a moment of panic as that unthinkable thought runs through Jon’s head, that Sasha is dead. Again. That every Jon has changed has done nothing to save her. The small knot of worry in his chest wells up inside him, suffocating Jon. Then a figure appears behind Tim, a familiar face smiling out from the dark.

“I’m here too,” Sasha chimes. “Hello again.”

Seeing Sasha alive and well bursts that sinking worry, the final weight holding Jon down disappearing with relief. It was like he suddenly emerged from a heavy blanket, all relief and light happiness. There’s a small part of him that wonders if this is the real Sasha James or of this is just another Not!Sasha. But Jon quickly squashes that part deep into his mind, as Sasha and Tim have probably been beside each other the entire time, and that’s not something he can answer currently. It sits like a small nugget that Jon ignores. For now. Smiling, he looks at the pair instead. Like Tim, Sasha is covered in sweat and drywall dust, with a wide grin that also indicated she probably had also accidently breathed in too much CO2. There are a few spots on blood on her tights, but it looks like her previous injuries haven’t been slowing her down. She’s also ditched her cardigan somewhere in the tunnels, but aside from that, she looks well.

Martin stares at the pair, mouth agape. Seeing this, Tim gives another smile.

“It’s the funniest thing,” he continues having taken a few moments to catch his breath. “So, I ran into the office, worms everywhere, horrible death and everything with Sasha right behind me for some reason. And the she ran into me and pushed me into a bunch of boxes filled with like 20 cans of gas.”

Jon briefly wonders if he found either Martin’s box of canisters or Jon’s box of canisters. Either way, it didn’t really matter. They found it. Tim and Sasha were alive and well and at the end of the day, that was the main reason Jon was here. Now they all just had to survive the rest of it. Together.

“Are you alright?” Jon asks, already knowing the answer, but wanting to confirm it anyway. “Did you get bitten?”

“Nope,” Tim responds jovally. “You can take a look for yourself though.”

He takes the moment to lift his shirt, exposing his chest the rest of the crew. Luckily, Sasha is behind Tim, but Martin and Jon would be in serious trouble if HR ever decided to do their job properly. Martin quickly looks away with discomfort and Jon just ends up face palming. He hadn’t forgotten Tim had done that last time, but there was some small part of him that was hoping that with Sasha there, he might not have done that again. Then again, it was Tim.

“I see your fine Tim, now please lower your shirt,” Jon sighs, waiting for Tim to comply before continuing to talk. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Fine,” Tim responds with a small palm wave. “Bit light-headed from everything and the ventilation in the tunnels is really bad by the way.”

“The tunnels?” Martin asks.

“The ones beneath the Institute,” Sasha clarifies, gesturing behind her and towards the looming dark.

“We should really get going before Prentiss finds a way into this place,” Tim continues, not letting Jon or Martin say anything in complaint. “Besides, there’s less worms down there. Although they are faster than the ones up here.”

Tim’s right, they can’t stay here forever. With Jon distracted by everything that happened concerning Martin, he doesn’t know how close Jane Prentiss is to figuring out how to get into the room. Especially with a hole in the wall now leading into the tunnels. The protection of the Eye helped a little against the worms, but it’s not enough to stop a full assault. Anyway, Jon also knows that Elias Bouchard won’t stop the attack until Jon has received a mark from the Corruption and running out of the locked door and straight into Prentiss’s arms is not an ideal solution. Not only is Jon unsure if Elias is at the boiler room already, but also he’ll look like a maniac to Sasha, Tim, and Martin. No, it’s better for things to play out as they did before, with Jon ‘accidently’ ending up in the middle of the Corruption. He just has to hope, that with Sasha currently by Tim’s side, Elias upholds his end of the deal.

“Wait…” Martin interrupts Jon’s thoughts with a stutter. “Down into the tunnels?”

There’s a small hint of fear in his voice as he says that. For Martin, this room is safe, this is the room that he’s lived in for the past few months. This is the room with fire extinguishers and a locked door. This is the room with no worms and grated air vents. Down into the tunnels, tunnels that the rest of them had no idea existed until today, promises an unknown danger. A way of escape and the prospect of worms.

“Sounds like a plan,” Jon says quickly, before Martin can object any further. He’d much rather keep Martin happy, but he also knows that they need to do this. “Can someone help me up?”

Martin helps Jon stand again, the pain in his leg complaining loudly as he does so. The problem with having a boyfriend far taller than you is that it’s rather difficult to use them as a crutch. Jon knows he could, but it would slow them down considerably. He takes a few tentative steps, trying to keep the weight off his injured leg. It’s not so bad that he can’t walk completely, just that every time he steps on it, there’s a jolt of pain through his body. Not for the first or the last time, Jon misses the supernatural healing that come with the position of Archivist.

“Can you walk?” Martin asks, concerned, holding onto Jon tightly.

“I can limp,” Jon responds, taking a few more steps to prove it. He wobbles and nearly falls.

Seeing this, Sasha darts forward and puts Jon’s arm around her shoulder, letting him lean on her instead of against Martin. Giving the rest of them an ‘I’m okay’ nod, he watches as Martin and Tim both head towards the hole, Tim leading the way. Then Jon starts to move, helped along by Sasha, towards the dark of the tunnels. None of them have any form of light, except for the thin torches from their phones. Jon should have placed a flashlight in here also, but that might have been a little suspicious. Also he hadn’t thought about it in the last few months, and hindsight was somehow far better at pointing out what he’d forgotten compared to what he’d planned.

“Let’s go then,” Tim says, disappearing into the dark and silhouetted by a small, white light.

Then Martin’s gone. Jon pauses at the entrance to the hole, looking up at the ceiling with a determined expression. He knows Elias is watching him, waiting for him to earn his first mark.

“Elias,” he whispers, barely audible to Sasha’s ears. “Remember our deal and get to that boiler room if you’re not already there.”

His entire survival depends on that small little thing. Jon hates putting his trust in Elias, but compared to letting Sasha run off alone, there’s no choice.

“What was that?” Sasha asks.

“Nothing,” Jon responds. “Just talking to myself. After you.”

He gives a small smile with that, and the pair descend into the tunnels and the dark.

The tunnels are exactly how Jon remembers them, low and dark and slightly dusty. Tim leading the way, with Martin right behind him. Jon and Sasha take up the rear, slowing the rest of the group down considerably. Jon detaches himself from Sasha shortly after their decent into the tunnels, making it easier for the both of them to keep a lookout and make sure that nothing’s following them. His leg still hurts, but he can walk on it. Anyway, aside from the constant terror that Prentiss’s worms are going to attack them at any second, Jon’s glad that they’re not leaving him behind. As they walk, they walk in silence, with only the echoing of footsteps to show any indication that they are there at all. There’s a strange mood to air, a fear that if they’re too loud, the worms will hear them, and the chase will be on again.

Jon recognises the area, knows the way around this section of the tunnels due to his numerous exploration missions. He knows that when Tim reaches the first intersection, sweeping his torch around to check for worms, that he should turn left. Tim turns right, and Jon follows behind. If Tim looks like he’s accidently heading towards either Gertrude or the Panopticon, then Jon will step in and lead the group. But for now he’s not supposed to know this area. He knows that he’ll have to reveal something before they exit the tunnels, but now they should just concentrate on avoiding worms.

It’s at the third intersection when Tim finally spots movement. A small shadow writhing at the edge of the torchlight. There’s barley time to shout a warning to the rest of the group before it moves, far quicker than the worms in the Institute, darting towards them with a hungry intent. In the brief moment that the four of them stand there, staring into the dark, they all see behind that singular worm is a far great pile of shadow. A slick pink and green shimmer. A terrible beauty. Then the four of them come to their senses, turning to sprint down the corridor.

Martin takes the lead, sprinting down the corridor in a random direction and way from the worms. Sasha loops her arm around Jon and under his armpit, helping carry him as they hobble and run down the passage after the boys. It’s still far slower than he would like and it’s barely enough to keep up with Tim and Martin, but it’s enough to stay ahead of the worms. Left. Straight. Right. Right. Straight. Left. At this point, Jon’s completely lost. The passages themselves begin to blur together, all paths looking the same, the pain in his leg screaming at him, and the constant wiggling squelching is always just behind him as Jon runs. At each intersection, Tim pauses, giving Sasha and Jon enough time to gain a few more paces. With Martin now leading the way and only slowing down every few corners, it’s a useful way for Jon and Sasha to see which way he’s run if he turns down a corridor too quickly. Then again, he’s never more than a few paces ahead.

Until Jon lands hard on his leg, causing him to stumble and collapse into Sasha, knocking her to the floor. They clatter silently against the floor, kicking up dust into a small cloud that hovers around them for a moment. Luckily, Sasha’s far more mobile than Jon currently is, and by the time that he’s come to his senses and shaken off the pain and the fall, Sasha’s already extracted herself from the pile and standing up. Tim, who must have seen them collapse, appears before Jon’s vision, offering him a hand to help pull himself up with. Jon takes it, only to be yanked to his feet without the careful consideration Sasha had. Perhaps this was revenge for not giving Tim the office romance he was hoping for. Or payback for reducing Tim’s _research and information_ budget. Despite everything, there’s the briefest glimmer of a smile on Jon’s face before he notices the incoming worms and drops it.

Sasha ducks under one arm, and Tim ducks under the other. There’s a small moment confusion from Jon, as it’s far easier for him to run if there’s only one of them, before the pair stand up and set off. They’re almost carrying Jon, except his feet are brushing against the ground and helping them not support his full weight. Turning the corner, Jon notices that it’s empty. There’s a brief moment of disappointment from Jon as he’d hoped that Martin would have noticed and waited for them. That they could have all stayed together during this time. But Jon also knows that Martin needs to go off alone, needs to find the body of Gertrude Robinson that Elias has hidden in the tunnels. It’s not his fault he’s run off, this has to happen, and Martin probably has only now just realised that they’re not directly behind him. Anyway, the trio has a slightly more dangerous distraction than figuring out which way Martin went. Escaping the worms. They pick a direction at random and run.

Jon doesn’t know how long it takes for the sound to finally fade into silence. Tim and Sasha have both abandoned the carrying run at this point, letting Jon quickly hobble after them as he is mildly dragged by Tim. His side burns and his leg hurts. Sasha and Tim don’t look much better. Both are breathing deeply, the thin phone torchlight revealing red and sweaty faces. Hands on their side, the three take a moment to catch their breath. Tim was right, the ventilation in the tunnels isn’t ideal for mad sprints away from worms, but it’s enough for now. Jon’s unfortunately used to it by now. He just wishes this weren’t his first flight through the tunnels, instead hoping that it will be his last.

“Martin?” Tim asks, as if only now realising that that Martin Blackwood is missing. He looks around expectantly.

“Must have taken a different turn,” Jon pants, checking behind them in case of worms. “I don’t think he noticed we’d fallen behind.”

“Should we…?” Sasha begins, trailing off into silence.

“No use,” Jon answers, knowing what she’s about to ask. “We’ll only get even more lost. Martin will be fine; he’ll just have to make his own way to an exit.”

As he says this, there’s a small creeping of doubt in Jon’s mind. He can image Martin tripping, falling and being consumed by the worms. He can image Martin, hopelessly lost in the tunnels and never finding his way out. He can imagine Martin stumbling upon the Panopticon and making an enemy of Elias before Jon can intervene. Despite his best efforts, Jon can’t quite keep the worry from his voice. He’s scared about Martin, worried about what could happen to him. Sasha and Tim understand this, read between the lines in his words. Saying Martin will be fine is as much for his own sake as it is for theirs, even if he knows his fear is unfounded and Martin was fine last time. Right now, they need to find the exit back into the Archives.

“Any idea which way out?” Tim asks, looking left and right.

Jon, not recognising the section they’re currently in, shakes his head.

“I guess we’ll have to hope for the best,” Sasha says, continuing to head down the corridor they’d stopped in. It doesn’t seem like a sensible idea to turn back the way they came.

Tim and Jon follow her, Jon walking on his own now that the threat of worms is not chasing behind them. Now that they group can walk slowly without consequence. Anyway, Tim needs a rest and Sasha isn’t doing much better. She’s also limping slightly, although far less than Jon is. It’s only noticeable because Jon knows what to look for. The trio walks in silence for a bit, not wanting their voices to attract the worms.

“Oh. I almost forgot,” Tim says suddenly, breaking the echoing silence and reaching into the pocket of pants and pulling out a tape recorder. Jon stares in surprise at it. He’s never even considered that Tim hadn’t dropped it when he was jumped by Prentiss back in the Archives. Yet here it was, silent and waiting, tape loaded from when Jon used it last.

“There’s not much battery left,” Tim continues. “But I figured since you’re determined to record everything then you might want this.”

“Thanks Tim,” Jon says taking the tape recorder and turning it over in his hand.

Part of him wants to hit record, the part of him Jon recognises is due to the influence of the Eye. The part pushing him to become the Archivist. Instead, he ignores the urge, tucking the tape recorder into his inner blazer pocket along with the tape containing the descriptions of Tim, Sasha, and Martin. It would be safe there until he needs it. The tape recorder bangs uncomfortably against his chest as he takes a few more steps. He’s not sure how or why Tim didn’t just drop this, but he’s grateful. Tim looks at him with a small head tilt, clearly not getting the reaction he is expecting.

“Let’s survive this first, then I’ll get statements later,” Jon says.

Tim smiles and nods, thinking about something for a moment.

“So…” He drags out, mischievous smile on his face. “You and Martin…”

He gives Jon a jovial elbow that is completely out of place for the situation they’re in. Unfortunately for Jon, Tim’s voice has a slight echo to it, an echo that Sasha hears. She turns back to look at Tim with a flat ‘really’ expression. Jon has to agree with her, this isn’t the time.

“Not now,” is all Jon responds with.

Luckily, Tim seems to read that Jon’s worry for Martin is far deeper than he’s making it out to be, and he falls silent. Although, Jon doesn’t like the small gleam in his eye that’s indicating Tim wants the full story eventually. A story that’s going to take a fair bit of explaining. The trio walk in silence for a bit, time beginning to become a monotonous blend of the same thing over and over again. Then Jon recognises a passage, the familiar markings in the stonework on the wall suddenly bringing every memory back to him. He’s near the trapdoor entrance. They’re nearly out. Tim, leading the pack, turns in the opposite direction.

“This way,” Jon says, ignoring Tim and beginning to limp down the correct passage.

He knows that both Sasha and Tim are staring confused at his back as he turns down the correct path. Looking behind himself, he can read their expressions, the question on both their faces is clear enough, ‘how do you know that?’ Jon’s tired, his leg hurts, Martin’s alone, and he’s not excited about what’s about to happen. He doesn’t have the energy to make up some form of believable lie about how he knows that. Or why he’s in such a rush to get back into the worm infested Institute.

“It’s complicated,” he sighs, defaulting back to the answer he’s already used too many times today.

“That’s not an answer Jon,” Sasha says, folding her arms and standing her ground. She doesn’t need to ask the rest of her question.

“I’ll explain when we’re safe,” Jon says.

He turns away from them, indicating the conversations over, and continues to walk. A flurry of mutters erupts behind him from Tim and Sasha. Jon knows he should pay attention to what they’re saying, what they’re saying about him. But he can’t. All he can think about is what awaits him at the end of the of the passage. So he walks in silence, with only their footsteps and the echoing noise of Tim and Sasha behind him. Right. Left. Straight. Straight. Left. Then he’s here, staring at the steps that lead up to a heavy wooden trapdoor. The trapdoor into the worm-infested Archives. Tim and Sasha fall into silence as they see this, standing next to him at the base of the stairs and looking up.

“Where does this lead?” Tim asks, not taking his eyes off it.

“The Archives,” Jon answers. “You two should probably take a few steps back.”

Surprising the tremor he was expecting in his voice is gone. Instead it’s replaced by a level acceptance. Jon feels light, his feet guiding him on a destiny he has little chance of stopping at the moment. One day, he will turn away from the path of Archivist, but only when everyone else is safe. Right now, Jon's in a corner and has very little choice. This is a Mark he's not avoiding any time soon. He takes the first step onto the stairs, only to be grabbed by Sasha.

“Have you forgotten that Jane Prentiss is in there?” Sasha whisper yells at him, staring directly into his eyes like he’s insane. Jon’s not sure he isn’t.

“I know,” Jon says, extracting his arm from Sasha’s grip with a small wave. He takes a breath out before continuing, trying to ignore their staring and trying to think of an excuse. They’re going to think he’s insane anyway, so this time Jon settles on the truth. “Elias won’t trigger the fire suppression system until I’ve gained a Mark. If I don’t go up there, other people might get hurt. I don’t want anyone else dying or getting Marked.”

With that last line, Jon give a small snort, a combination of fear and insanity. What he’s doing scares him, despite the fact he’s trying to stand tall, trying to stand proud. The truth is that he has no way of trusting Elias, of even knowing if he’s going to pull the lever or if he’s going to let Jon die and let someone else assume the role of Archivist. Jon could be walking to the start of his destiny or the end of his story. Either way, there’s only one way this ends. With Jon, covered in worm scars. He’d given it a fair amount of thought over the past few months, and this was the only answer he could think of.

Sasha and Tim both stutter something, each word overlapping the other’s and causing them both to sound like meaningless noise. They don’t understand it, they’re trying to figure out what Jon means, trying to get answers and stop Jon. Sasha looks intently at Jon, and he can see her mind working, trying to put the pieces as she stutters meaninglessly. If Jon doesn’t survive this, he hopes that she’ll have enough information to know that something’s wrong and figure it out. But not now. Now is something that Jon has to do alone. He interrupts their stutters and thinking both before either of them can get their words together.

“I’ll be fine,” he lies. “Now stand back.”

Jon hurries up the stairs, hands resting on the cool wood of the trapdoor, and pushes, diving through the trapdoor before Tim and Sasha can stop him. Before he can stop himself. It clatters behind him as he emerges into the Archival Main Document Storage.

The first thing he hears is the familiar wailing of the fire alarm. The first thing he feels is the cold slimy bodies of hundreds of worms around his ankles. Then the pain comes at him in large sweeping waves as new worms begin to burrow their way into his flesh, causing him to fall to the ground. He crashes to the ground with a squelching clatter and a painful groan. He’s not opening his mouth, not here. The pain becomes blinding and he nearly passes out as the worms claim his unmarked flesh. Shutting his eyes, Jon lets the pain take him. He thinks he can hear screaming, his own screaming? Sasha or Tim? He doesn’t know anymore, all he knows is pain and squelching and a voice calling his name in a low hiss.

“Archivist…”

Then he blacks out, and everything is gone.


	10. Reunions

Jon awakes to a blinding white. It takes more than a few blinks for his vision to settle, revealing the white roof of a temporary hospital tent. There’re several people in hazmat suits surrounding him, mostly watching him with intent, bandages covering a considerable portion of his body, and a hard-plastic oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Tilting his head to the side, Jon sees in the corner of the room lies his shirt and blazer, both covered in his own blood and resting on a small makeshift table. He’s alive. He’s escaped. Seeing the movement, the doctors in the hazmat suits begin to move, surrounding Jon’s vision, their muffled voices unintelligible. They’re saying something to him, his name perhaps? It doesn’t matter as the white light glows to a blinding level making his head spin. Jon lets out a small relaxed laugh and lets himself drift back into unconsciousness. He’s going to be all right.

He survived.

It takes over an hour for Jon to be given the ‘all clear to leave’. It’s a bit of a blur for him, numerous faces asking questions, making sure he’s not infected. Unlike Tim last time, Jon knows better than to make a wriggling joke, instead answering their questions with a tired honesty. But eventually they let him, giving him a pair or crutches and a fresh shirt along with his old clothes, and telling him he needs at least a week’s rest to recover. Probably more. Jon has to smile at that; he’s never going to recover from this.

Taking a few steps out the tent, he notices that it’s been set up in one of the waiting rooms of to the side of the large foyer of the Magnus Institute. Around him bustle police officers, ambulance workers, a few essential staff members, and the clean up crew. Then a figure charges into him, nearly knocking him off his feet, wrapping their arms around him in a hug. A figure that is actually two figures. Tim and Sasha. Jon smiles and hugs back. Eventually they release each other.

“You survived,” Sasha says, smiling wildly.

“I did,” Jon looks at her with an exhausted smile. “We all did.”

He’ll still need to listen to the tape to be sure it’s really Sasha. But considering she’s probably been with Tim since she left the sealed room, there’s a high chance that this is the real Sasha James. There’s a high chance Jon actually succeeded.

“We would have been in to see you earlier,” Tim says. “But someone wouldn’t let me.”

Tim tilts his head in the direction of Elias. He’s talking with Rosie and a police officer Jon doesn’t recognise, although he notices Jon’s glance in him direction, answering with a smile and a small nod. Jon gives a knowing nod back, he might hate him, but he couldn’t deny that he’d currently be dead without Elias’s interference. They would definitely be having a conversation about everything later. But not today. Today is for Jon to spend with the people he actually cares about. Sasha, Tim, and Martin. Jon looks around suddenly, realising Martin wasn’t with them. Surely, he would have been waiting for Jon to emerge.

“Martin?” Jon asks, not seeing him anywhere.

Tim and Sasha share a glance Jon can read easily. Martin must have found Gertrude’s body. There’s a small measure of suspicion in that glance though, the question of if they thought Jon was responsible for her murder. He wants to laugh at that, he’d just convinced Martin he meant no harm and now Tim and Sasha were suspicious of him. Luckily, he was going to tell them everything. Luckily this time Tim wouldn’t think he is a murderer.

“Martin found something in the tunnels,” Tim begins, not sure if he should finish the conversation.

“He found Gertrude,” Sasha continues for him. “She’s dead.”

“Good Lord, really?” Jon feigns as if he had no idea. “How?”

“She was in the tunnels. Gunshot according to the police,” Sasha responds watching Jon’s expression.

Jon gets the distinct feeling that she didn’t believe his reaction was genuine. Gets the distinct feeling that Sasha knows Jon’s hiding something. That, combined with his apart knowledge of the tunnels, is enough to make anyone wary of his motives. Jon finds he’s too tired to care. He probably should, but there doesn’t seem to be much of a point, not when they’re getting the truth anyway.

“Martin’s just talking to the police now, he should be out soon,” Tim says, looking over one of the main corridors.

Jon guesses that’s the direction that he’s in holed away in one of the private rooms. He can imagine Martin, sitting opposite a faceless police officer, answering questions again and again about the body he found. Jon wants to go to him, hold his hand and let him know it’ll be alright. He’d only succeed in getting himself kicked out of the room though.

“And you two?” Jon asks the pair. It’s not a redirection, Jon’s genuinely concerned about them. “Are you both alright.”

“A lot better than you,” Tim laughs, picking up on the topic change. “We didn’t go into the room full of worms.”

There’s another question to his tone, asking why Jon did that in the first place. Asking what Jon was talking about in his mad ramblings before going through the trapdoor?

“About that…” Sasha continuing off Tim’s unspoken question. “What the hell were you thinking Jon?! You owe us answers.”

“I though Prentiss might have left by then,” Jon blatantly lies, a lie that Sasha and Tim see right through.

As he says this though, Jon shakes his head, silently telling Tim and Sasha that he couldn’t answer that question. Not now. Not with Elias so close and easily able to stop him from talking. He doesn’t risk nodding towards Elias, but the effect is the same. Both Sasha and Tim see it, Jon’s reluctance to talk. A reluctance to say anything in the present company. With the police, medical team, clean-up crew, and all the other Institute staff, there’s a lot of options as to why Jon doesn’t want to talk. Doesn’t want to be overheard. Luckily, they both understand, Tim answering with a small wink. Sasha just stands there, expression clear. She wants answers. Not for the first time, Jon thinks she would have made a better Archivist than he ever did, not that he’d wish this fate on anyone.

“And you two?” Jon says after a few moments have passed. The silence is too suspicious, too empty.

With this, Sasha launches into a small description about what happened to Tim and her after Jon left. Mainly it involved them waiting at the tunnel entrance, debating whether or not to follow him, until they heard the worms screaming and dying. Then they’d gone through, found Jon and the body for Jane Prentiss, and basically dragged him to the entrance and the paramedics.

Jon listens, moving towards a chair to sit down as the pair of them talk. Jon doesn’t say too much as she talks, the realisation that this is all real slowly building within him back to him in an instant. Sasha’s here, they all survived. It’s a euphoric feeling, a beautiful, light sigh of relief.

This is the moment that Martin enters the room, curly brown hair bouncing in the afternoon light. He smiles at Jon, a smile of love and happiness at seeing Jon alright. It’s a smile that Jon remembers well and one that he’ll get to experience almost every day, provided things don’t go horribly wrong for him or the world. Jon smiles back, a gesture that does not go unnoticed by both Sasha and Tim. Jon doesn’t notice, or care about their reactions, he’s just staring at Martin.

“I’m getting a coffee,” Tim says suddenly and not at all subtly. “Sash, you coming?”

It’s not hard to guess his motives as he drags a smiling Sasha away from Jon so he can have a private reunion with Martin. Jon’s grateful.

But before Martin can come over to him, a police officer emerges from behind him. One Jon recognises. Basira Husain. He should probably talk to her later, although considering that they’re not supposed to know each other yet, Jon’s not sure what he wants to say. He supposes he could keep asking for the tapes again, although Jon knows now what happened to Gertrude and no-longer needs them. Plus he has no desire to incur Daisy’s wrath again. No desire to earn his Hunt mark from her. He’ll have to think about it think about a future he’s been avoiding. The worms had always seemed like the main priority, but now that was over, what next? Leitner? The Unknowing? Basira seems to catch Martin on the shoulder, a question unanswered from their interview no doubt, and beckons over a second police officer. Martin turns to talk to them, leaving Jon to sit on his chair alone.

Around him, all the people in the room seem to fade away, tunnelling and blurring into background noise. Jon leans back, thinking about everything and nothing in particular, thinking about Martin, the motion causing his coat to fall from his lap with a clatter. The tape recorder. Jon had almost forgotten about it. Well with Martin currently occupied and Sasha and Tim gone, now was the best time to listen to it. To make sure Sasha is still Sasha. Otherwise he’s waiting until he’s back home in his apartment. A small knot of apprehension and dread forms in his stomach as Jon loads the tape and presses play, making sure it’s buried within his blazer to muffle the sound a little. Elias might be not happy when Jon explains the truth to his assistants, but Elias would kill him if the entire Magnus Institute knew the truth. Or Jon would look like a stalker to his co-workers and the police. The tape whirs and plays, Jon bringing the blazer to his ear to listen.

_“Recording the descriptions of Tim, Sasha, and Martin in the event things… happen_

_“Sasha is short, with curly dark brown hair…”_

The tape continues, each descriptor of Sasha matching up with the Sasha Jon remembers. The Sasha Jon saw just a few minutes ago. It’s her, she’s safe. The knot of dread disappears in an instant, and Jon beams. The final bit of tension washing away and leaving Jon floating as he sits in the chair, his own voice talking in a muffled tone through his jacket. Everything is going to be okay. Everything is good. Jon’s done it, fought against the future and Reality and succeeded. He’s saved Sasha from the Not!Them. Jon’s pretty sure he’s grinning like a maniac at the moment, not caring if anyone looks over and sees him.

The tape continues, finishing up with a Jon’s description of Sasha and moving to a description of Tim.

_“Tim is tall, with black spikey hair shortly shaved…”_

It’s more out of habit than anything else, but Jon keeps listening, again mentally checking that Tim is still Tim. He is. He’s still Tim. Jon’s mind begins to wander a little bit as the tape continues, ting of the future again. He’s trying to figure out how he’s going to explain everything to Tim, Sasha, and Martin. Where is he even going to begin? How is he going to start? Should he start by explaining he’s from the future or leave it until the end? Perhaps he should start with the role of the Entities in this world and the true identity of Elias Bouchard. Jon runs his hand across his face, thinking deeply. His own voice pauses on the tape, moving from Tim to Martin.

_“Martin is tall, with short but curly brown hair…”_

Jon’s heart skips a beat as he hears this, looking over to Martin as he talks to Basira. Martin stands there, tall, fat, curly brown hair, and a smile that could brighten Jon’s day. It’s still him. And with that, all the doubt, all the worry, all the anxiety is gone. There had been a small idea, while listening to Tim’s tape, that maybe something had happened to Martin while he was alone in the tunnels, that maybe he’d been caught by the Not!Them. But thankfully he’s wrong and Martin’s fine.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Jon carefully rests the tape and his jacket on the floor and sits back to wait for Martin to finish talking to the police officers. It doesn’t take long, and soon Martin is slowly approaching. He looks tired and dirty, but unharmed. Jon’s heart flutters.

“Hey Martin, you alright?”

He’s trying unsuccessfully to keep the smile from his voice. He’d stand up and hug him if his leg hadn’t chosen that moment to decide that it really didn’t want to be stood upon. After a moment, Martin sits in the chair beside him, looking out across the main entrance with a small sigh.

“I think I’ll be fine,” he responds. Gods, he sounds tired. Martin turns to look at him, expression flat and questioning. “Jon, I spoke with Sasha and Tim. What were you thinking?”

The rise in tone cases Rosie to shoot a glance in Jon and Martin’s direction. He doesn’t know what Tim and Sasha told Martin, whether it was the everything or an abridged version of the truth. It could just be that Martin’s worried about his injuries, not that his injuries really matter. The worms are gone and soon the bites will scar into their familiar pattern. It’s funny, he’d almost gotten used to the idea of not carrying those scars around for the rest of his life. Almost.

“I’m fine Martin,” Jon protests uselessly, hoping to divert the conversation away from his own recklessness. “Really.”

“Fine? Fine does not go charging into a worm-infested Archives on purpose.”

“Ah… That.”

So, Sasha and Tim told him then. Told him what he said before he charged on ahead. In hindsight, Jon just wishes that he'd had enough energy to come up with some believable excuse. Something that wouldn't continue to cause an interrogation from his three friends. He's going to tell them all everything, he just can’t talk about it now, not with Elias nearby and able to stop him talking. Martin raises an eyebrow in response, not believing for a second that Jon didn't know exactly what he was doing. He wants answers, and anything with the word _complicated_ or _accident_ in it would not end well for Jon.

“Yes that, Jon.”

“Trust me?”

There’s a slight upturn to Jon’s voice, a combination of a question and a small joke. Martin didn’t trust Jon much until earlier today, and that seemed to be Jon’s default response to all of this. He accompanies it a small smile and a shoulder shrug, making the joke all the more obvious. It helps that he doesn’t know what else to say. Martin, however, does not appear to be very amused by that, his expression resting in a flat expression of ‘really’. This is betrayed by the a small twinkle of endearment in his eyes.

“Ok look,” Jon continues after a few moments, voice deflating a little bit. “I’ll explain everything, just not now.”

He tilts his head subtly in the direction of the crowd of people. Luckily, Martin seems to understand that he doesn’t want an audience to whatever he’s hiding. His flat expression gives way to a tired smile once again.

“Alright,” Martin says. He pauses briefly. “But just because I like you doesn’t mean you’re off the hook just yet. You owe me an explanation.”

There’s an undertone of light laughter to his voice as he lightly elbows Jon in the side. The moment reminds Jon for a moment of Scotland, and everything that was to them. He can’t help but smile, giving a small laugh of happiness in the presence of the memories he treasures most. Memories that hopefully he can experience again.

“I promise,” Jon smiles. “Anyway, how are you holding up?”

The light tone seems to hold in the air for a moment before drifting away. Martin turns from looking at Jon to looking back out across the room, to the police officers and the medical staff. It’s not hard to figure out what Martin’s thinking about. Jon wants to reach out, to hold Martin’s hand in his own and promise him that everything will be alright. To give him that familiar comfort. He doesn’t, the boundary of their relationship a new and fragile thing that Jon doesn't want to break.

“Sasha and Tim told me you found Gertrude. Are you, you know, alright?” Jon continues, his voice becoming softer as he talks.

“I don’t know,” Martin begins. “It’s just.”

The words fail him in a way that’s familiar to Jon. He doesn’t know how to put it into words, to explain everything. Still, Jon can read Martin, read the shock of finding a body, the worry about what happened to Gertrude and whether or not the same thing will happen to him or Jon. The worry that Jon already knew. Despite talking to the police, he’s still processing everything. Still processing emotions that are beginning to bubble over. Combined with the stresses and the panic from today, Martin’s being doing some heavy emotional repression, and he hasn't found the words to figure it out yet. There's only one thing Jon can think of doing.

“Come here,” Jon responds, holding out an arm for Martin. An invitation. One Martin can turn down if he wishes.

Martin takes it, leaning carefully into Jon’s shoulder and resting there. He’s warm, a familiar weight that Jon didn’t realise he was missing. Jon rests his arm around Martin, running his hand comfortingly through his hair as he relaxes onto Martin. There are no words between them, there doesn’t need to be. Instead it’s a comforting silence and a promise that they’re not alone, that they’re together and will always there for each other. A promise that everything is going to be okay. Martin lets out a deep breath, collapsing more into Jon, eyes fluttering closed. Jon can't stop himself smiling.

Jon doesn’t know how long they sit together in warmth and silence, the rest of the Institute fading into nothingness around them. Instead Jon’s thinking of the future, their future. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, if telling the other causes some irreversible path that changes everything or if everything’s going to play out the same as it did last time. But for the first time, Jon doesn’t care. For the first time, Jon’s got a chance of happiness with all of his friends surviving. Maybe that’s all he needs.

Eventually, Martin shuffles, detaching himself from Jon almost regretfully. Although the smile he gives Jon is one of gratitude and love. He needed that. For some reason, that makes Jon feel incredibly guilty. The only reason Jon can read Martin so well is because of his history, because of all the conversations and moments that never happened. It feels odd, going into a relationship again with someone who doesn’t remember it. Who never lived it. Another power imbalance that Jon can’t seem to escape, no matter how hard he tries. He doesn’t know if telling Martin will cause him to lose the fragile thing they're building here, but Martin needs to know. Releasing his arm from Martin, Jon fidgets with his fingers, pointedly not looking at Martin. Martin needs to know, and perhaps he'll leave him, or perhaps he’ll stay. He trusts whatever choice Martin makes, he always will. But why does that make the words so hard to say.

“Um… Martin… So… There’s something you should know about me, about us before… well… um…”

He’s stuttering. He still has no intention of telling Martin here in the Institute, but there’s a coffee shop around the corner they could go to together. Even if Jon can’t say anything, it would be nice to get away from the gaze of the Eye and Elias. To sit with Martin and enjoy a moment of peace.

“Jon?”

The confusion in his voice is evident, like he knows that Jon’s hiding something big, something else. Jon takes a breath and looks around. Sasha and Tim haven’t returned, or if they have, they’re keeping their distance. Still, this is something he wants to talk to Martin alone about. Perhaps, if he choses to stay with Jon, Martin could help him explain all this to them. Find the words without losing them to the stuttering again.

“Let’s go,” Jon says slightly nervously. He stands, ignoring the pain and holding out a hand to Martin. “I believe I promised you some answers.”

Martin takes it, pausing for a moment to grab Jon's jumper and the tape, and together they head towards the exit. Jon does take a brief moment to look around for Sasha and Tim, but doesn't spot them. That makes everything easier in a way. He can talk to Martin, stumble over the story of his past and the past they share together. Then, if Martin choses to stay with him, he can help Jon find the best way to tell the others before they all return to the Magnus Institute in a week. He doesn't know how Sasha and Tim will take the news, although he guesses that it won't go down well. He also has no idea how Elias is going to react, what punishment he'll have in store for Jon for going against their delicate agreement. But Jon find's he doesn't care. 

Instead, Jon sees the future opening up before him. Martin's hand is warm in his own, a comfort that brings a smile to his face and reminds Jon of why he's here. Perhaps they'll keep history the same, or perhaps they'll try and fight Reality to forge a new path. But this is something they should discuss together, decide as a team and as friends. 

He's not losing any of them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the wrap, the alternative ending completed!
> 
> This is also my one obligatory fluffy piece for this fandom. It may have been fun to figure out the _happy_ version of the ending, but I think I'm going to jump back on the angst train. What can I say? I like being a terrible person. :)
> 
> If you want to see the other ending, go check it out. It also has the fun alternative versions for the titles and a little epilogue (this one didn't get an epilogue because I decided I hated it as I was writing it). If you do, check the tags on that fic first. I will be updating the series with two additional mini fics weekly. That said, all the mini fics will be related to the original ending.
> 
> If you enjoyed then please leave a comment or a kudos. You guys are the reasons I keep putting my work up here. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Statement Reviewed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29674137) by [IndigoMoonfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoMoonfly/pseuds/IndigoMoonfly)




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